


One Million Bullets

by TheFirstDayOfSpring



Series: One Million Bullets [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, More Fluff, Root is Alive, Root/Sameen Shaw - Freeform, Shaw is cute, Some angst, a decent recovery arc, beach fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2018-09-06 22:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8771956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFirstDayOfSpring/pseuds/TheFirstDayOfSpring
Summary: A series of one shots of Root and Shaw's past, present and future together, in no particular order





	1. The Day The Whole World Came Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Root survives 5x10 and Shaw takes care of her in the aftermath

Shaw can’t believe she let John talk her into going with him on a mission. It was a simple stake out, just watching a number to try and figure out what this guy got himself into. Just a small distraction from the tense and worrisome situation in the safe house. John said it was no good for Shaw to just sit by Root’s side all day, silently wondering if she would ever wake up. Shaw noted she had been all right doing just that for the past two days, but eventually she decided that the easiest way to get him off her back was to just go with him. Shaw was almost certain nothing earth shattering would happen in the hour and a half she would be gone.

But an hour and a half was enough to miss it. Root had woken up with Harold in the other room and, not knowing where she was, tore her stitches in a failed attempt to get out of the bed. Shaw had raced back to the safe house to fix the situation, but she was too late to catch Root in a conscious state.

She wipes another cloth soaked in disinfectant over the new stitches before carefully placing a new bandage on the bullet wound in Root’s chest, closely watching her face for any response. She looks at the open door behind her, where John and Harold are talking at the dining table, no longer paying her much attention. Then she leans over to press a soft kiss onto the bandage. It might not be the most hygienic thing to do, but she remembers Root tracing her lips over some of her own newest scars just a few nights back, and she had decided she liked the gesture.

She pulls down the tank top that was scrunched up to the bandages on Root’s ribs so Shaw could inspect the wound on her stomach slowly, careful not to jar any bones. It’s one of her own tops and it looks slightly too big on Root, making her look even more fragile than the bruises on her pale chest around the spot where the bullet hit her. But Shaw can hear her heart beating steadily from the monitor behind her and Root looks peaceful somehow. That playful smirk never fully leaves her face, not even when she’s asleep, Shaw has noticed before.

 

Later that night, after John and Harold have left and she has checked all of Root’s vitals, Shaw crawls under the covers on the other side of the bed. The steady beeps of the heart monitor would have driven her insane if anyone but Root had been connected to it. But the sound is a reassurance, so she is grateful no matter how long it will keep her awake. The street lights below the window make the room just light enough for her to make out Root’s face, and the way her chest moves up and down slowly. 

She tries to push the memories from two days ago away. She wants to stop thinking about how she sat on her knees, hunched over Root’s motionless, bleeding body. She wants to stop thinking about the way she felt ribs crack as she pushed on her chest too hard. She needs to stop thinking about the stars that clouded her vision as she pushed all of the air she had in her lungs into Root’s. There was no way to pinpoint what exactly the emptiness in her chest meant at that time, but the memories are now pressing on her lungs like her ribs are made of heavy, solid steel.

She moves a little closer and gently puts her arm over Root’s warm hips, careful to avoid the bullet wound on her abdomen. She shifts until she can rest her head on Root’s uninjured clavicle and sighs.

She will wake up again, Shaw tells herself. And this time she will be there. Like Root was, every time she woke up from a bad dream since she came back. And she will be okay. They’ll both be okay. The warm, sweet smell of Root’s skin sends Shaw drifting into a peaceful slumber.

She wakes up to the feeling of gentle fingers tracing lazy circles over her scalp. The soft scratching makes her hum her voice awake slowly. She starts leaning into it until she freezes, opens her eyes and lifts her head to look at Root. Soft bright eyes are staring back at her and the smile on Root’s face turns bigger. “Good morning.”

Shaw huffs a relieved breath as her sleepy eyes grow wide and she puts her hand on Root’s jaw. 

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Like a train wreck,” Root croaks, her smile never faltering. “Heard your kiss brought me back from the dead.”

Shaw smirks. “Wasn’t our best kiss if you ask me.”

“I found it quite exhilarating.” 

Shaw snorts and shakes her head. She moves up so her face is closer to Root’s and looks her in the eyes before pressing their lips together again. She can’t stop a sigh of relief from escaping her mouth at the feel of the warm lips kissing her back. The beeps of the heart monitor pick up just slightly, but enough for both of them to notice and smile. Shaw slides her hand into the little hairs at the nape of Root’s neck. Root hums quietly and moves her hand to Shaw’s back. She shifts up slightly before letting go of Shaw’s lips and falling back into her pillow with a pained hiss. 

“Don’t move, you idiot,” Shaw says, her tone soft and concerned. She immediately slides her hand over to the place over Root’s heart, where her ribs are aching. Root flinches but Shaw’s touch is soft and the warmth more soothing than painful. “Lemme see.”

They pull the covers down in a team effort. Shaw props up on her elbow and snakes her hand under the loose top Root is wearing. She inspects all the bandages for blood and any signs of infection.

“How do I look, doctor?” Root says with an attempt of her usual flirting tone. Half of it goes missing to a quiet wince, but the effort makes Shaw smile regardless.

“Like a hot mess,” she answers. “But pretty good, considering.” She puts her hand on the mattress beside Root and swings her leg over her thighs so she is straddling her, but before Root can object to a sudden turn of events that her body certainly wouldn’t be able to handle, Shaw is reaching over to the nightstand below the heart monitor. When she leans back over Root, she is holding two white pills and a bottle of water.

“Think you can do this?” Shaw asks.

“I might need some help keeping my head up.” There is a soft smile on Root’s lips and in her eyes as she looks at Shaw hovering above her, and somehow she doesn’t look so helpless anymore.

“Yeah, I gotcha,” Shaw says. Her bicep twitches slightly as she holds Root’s head in place while she gulps down the painkillers with the water. Swallowing is clearly quite painful in her situation, but Shaw accepts the fact that she’s gonna have to fight through this one for now. And Root doesn’t complain.

She puts the bottle back on the nightstand when Root is done and plops back on her own side of the mattress. “Hungry?”

“Not really,” Root says.

“Good,” Shaw replies. “I don’t think there’s anything here you can keep down in this state.” Root huffs a small breath, an attempt at a laugh, Shaw figures. Then suddenly the heart monitor goes from a steady rhythm to a long drawn out beep. 

Shaw’s breath catches as she shoots up and leans over Root in a movement so quick it makes the whole bed bounce and Root groans.

“What the hell, Root?!” Shaw blurts out as she looks down at the plastic clamp that connected Root’s left index finger to the monitor, but now lies abandoned next to her hand. 

“The sound was annoying me,” Root says, her eyes still wide from the shock of Shaw’s abrupt action.

“Christ, you gave me a fucking heart attack,” Shaw huffs. She crawls over Root’s body again, this time a bit less careful to jar her injuries, and reaches to the eerily noisy monitor to turn it off.

“Ow!” Root protests.

“That’s what you get.” Shaw lays back down and has to pant to get her shaken up breath back to normal. 

“I’m sorry,” Root says, unable to keep the smile out of her voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Shaw shakes her head in an attempt to get rid of the memory of Root bleeding out in the street. It doesn’t quite work, so she just scoots back over to her side and nuzzles her face back into Root’s soft and warm neck. It smells like honey and Root, and it’s enough to calm down a little. Shaw doesn’t really understand the logistics of this, but there’s something about that smell that makes her feel warm and cozy inside, no matter how wound up she feels.

A long arm wraps around her shoulders. “You saved my life.”

“Not the first time, either,” Shaw huffs.

“My hero,” Root smiles.

There’s a long moment of silence and Shaw knows Root is thinking about the stock exchange again. That’s not really something she wants to think about either, so she lets her mind trail off to another memory. One that Root is as much a part of, but doesn’t really know about. 

It had felt heavier than she expected it would, sitting against that door, holding the syringe a mere inch away from her own eyeball. It was only gonna be one small movement, it seemed like no effort to jam her tightly clenched fist backward. That was all it would take for it all to be over. But her elbow was frozen in place, like it was waiting for something. She was suddenly overly aware of her heart beating in her chest, and in her throat, and rushing through her head with more noise than she ever heard before. And then it started to quiet down, as if telling her to listen to the static breaking over the radio above her.

She had picked up the code pretty quickly after her relocation. It didn’t take her much longer to match the stutters in the statics with the words the nurses and guards said to her and the things they did in response to it. She wouldn’t say she mastered the code fluently, not even remotely, but she knew enough to at least try and figure this one out. 

_Four alarm fire._

She didn’t have to reach far to remember what it meant. It was her that had mulled over these exact words for weeks what seemed like a lifetime ago. It hadn’t felt like she was thinking about it much at the time, but she’d had the words ready for the right moment to say them. A four alarm fire in an oil refinery. Chaos, danger and catastrophe. She had been proud of the simile because she knew Root would enjoy it. And even after all this time and after everything that happened, those words were still floating somewhere in the back of her head, stored away like a sacred charm, ready to be said again if the opportunity came up.

It wasn’t a surprise that Shaw still knew the words. Root, however, had only heard them once. They were delivered to her in a hurried yell over gunfire and chaos. But Root remembered them too.

It occurs to Shaw now that Root had probably ponded on them too, only after they were said. The analogy had been haunting both of their minds, and even with the gap of ten months and the Atlantic Ocean between them, and without ever discussing it, it had turned into their own personal secret code. 

And that had been enough. Root was still out there and she hadn’t given up on her. And if Root could believe in her with so much time and space between them, without even knowing for sure if she was still alive, then Shaw sure as hell could too. There was a reason to keep fighting and a promise waiting for her to come home.

It made her bones feel lighter, as she floated up with her back still pressed to the door. Even as the door opened up behind her and she practically fell into the arms of the guards, she couldn’t help but smile. How a bunch of crusty statics on a radio could nourish the brain like a wave of the purest air. 

Shaw presses her lips to the skin between the tendons of Root’s sweet neck. “You saved my life too,” she whispers. 

Root croons almost soundlessly in response. When Shaw looks up, her eyes are closed and the hint of a smirk is resting on her lips. Shaw huffs a smile and places a small peck on the edge of Root’s jaw before burying her face back into her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Emilia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/youmeandem) for the proofread xx
> 
> Work title is a Sia song, in case you were wondering.
> 
> Comment or come talk to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/samemeshaw) or both, or neither :D Have a great day!


	2. For The Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is basically Ladykiller but with Root. And without Carter. She's still on her extended beach vacation. Takes place early season 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again [Emilia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/youmeandem/pseuds/youmeandem) for the proofread
> 
>  **Warning:** Some mentions of sexual assault, but no actual sexual assault

“Wait,” Zoe interrupts Shaw in the middle of her quick cab ride briefing of tonight’s mission. “Did you just say Root?”

“Yeah, I said John and Root are waiting for us. At the safe house,” Shaw repeats. “It’s just like that time we went to the club with Joss.”

“Yeah, I get it, we’re creepy and potentially dangerous men bait again,” Zoe summarizes. “But are you talking about Root, Root? As in international elite hacker slash assassin Root?”

Shaw sucks in her cheeks as she tilts her head and widens her eyes at a spot on the cab door behind Zoe’s knees. She figures maybe someone should have filled Zoe in on Root’s new status in the team. But it’s a long story and Zoe is about to find out for herself in a couple of minutes, so Shaw settles on, “She’s a changed woman,” making sure to avoid Zoe’s eyes. She’s not sure if she can keep the little smirk off her face, the one she sometimes feels pulling at her cheeks when she sees Root, or when someone mentions her name. It’s annoying.

“Alright,” Zoe says, though she doesn’t sound fully convinced. “So who are we gonna be tricking this time?”

“Ugly white guy, mid forties. Finch will show you a picture later. Multiple sexual assault claims have been made against him but there was never enough proof. There’s a girl missing and his nasty stench is all over the case. We just need to give him a little nudge to get him arrested good. Then you and John take him to the precinct and take care of the boring law stuff.”

“Do we get to break his face in the process?”

Shaw grins. “I sure hope so.”

 

Shaw opens the door to the safe house and lets Zoe go in first. She turns her back to the room to shut the door behind her, but she can feel Zoe staying close to her as she greets John and Harold, and then Root.

Shaw turns back around, and her eyes immediately fall on Root who is standing by the table. She’s wearing a dark red dress with a deep square cut and small sleeves covering her shoulders. It hugs her tightly around her waist and ends just above her knees. The matte black pumps she’s wearing accentuate her long bare legs. There’s something about her hair that looks different than usual, but Shaw can’t tell exactly what it is before she feels a hand under her chin, snapping her jaw shut.

Shaw turns her head just in time to watch Zoe pull her hand back with a surprised grin on her face.

“Hey sweetie,” Root says with a knowing smirk. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” She points at the black dress Shaw is wearing.

“A changed woman, huh?” Zoe teases, quiet enough for just Shaw to hear.

Shaw rolls her eyes and walks down the steps into the room. She makes a point of walking around the other side of the table to get to Harold and his laptop, and avoid Root at the same time.

Harold briefly takes them over the mission again. All they have to do is lure the perp into the alley behind the club where John will be waiting to take him to the precinct, or provide backup if necessary. They could wait until they catch him in the act, but no one really wants any of they own to get hurt.

The four of them get into John’s car when it’s time to leave. Shaw hates not being behind the wheel herself, but she’s quite content sharing the backseat with Root. She would never say it out loud, but it’s dark enough for her not to care about the things her face does as she occasionally lets her eyes glide over Root’s legs and chest. And she doesn’t feel too bad about it because she is fully aware that Root is doing exactly the same with her.

 

When they get to the club, they still have about half an hour to kill before the perp gets there. They order the first round to a seating booth. Shaw wants to laugh at the look on John’s face when Zoe scoots closer to his side. But then Root puts a hand on Shaw’s bare thigh above her knee and she damn near chokes on her vodka.

“So how long has this been going on?” Zoe shouts over the loud music, pointing between them with a mean smirk on her face.

Shaw takes Root’s wrist in a vicious grip and puts it back in her own lap, making sure to trace her fingers over the hem of Root’s dress as she pulls her hand back.

“Nothing’s going on,” Shaw clarifies. She’s aware that Root’s grin only grows wider as she tilts her head sideways and stares at her with that bordering on insane look in her eyes. She hides her own curled up lips with her glass as she takes another big gulp of her vodka.

“Right,” Zoe says. “I don’t know what I was thinking!”

Shaw quickly manages to turn the tables and starts nagging John and Zoe about their special friendship, but shortly after, Harold comes through all of their earwigs to announce that the number is about to arrive.

They make their way over to the dance floor, while John takes his position at the top of the stairs, where he’ll be able to keep an eye on all three of them. Zoe places herself near the edge of the floor, closest to the door, while Shaw takes a seat at the bar on the other end. Root stands between them, in the middle of the crowd. Shaw doesn’t have any trouble finding her back in the small sea of people after she finishes ordering herself a new drink. Root is not the tallest woman in the room, but there is something about her tonight that leads Shaw’s eyes directly to her, no matter how many times Shaw tries to look away.

Root is dancing with an elegant awkwardness Shaw hasn’t seen before. It’s kind of funny, watching her move to the beat so helplessly, but at the same time she still looks hot and confident. There’s something about that dress that draws even more attention to the way she moves. Her hair is parted on the other side, Shaw notices. It’s also less wavy than usual.

She only realizes she’s staring when John’s voice breaks in to her ear. “He just walked in.”

She shifts her eyes from Root to the door, where a guy with a pretentious undercut and a white v neck is standing with the most heinous smile on his face. Shaw rolls her eyes with a big sigh. The only way this guy is gonna touch her is with his face against her knuckles.

They discussed strategies before leaving the safe house, but in the end it all depends on what this guy is going to do. He hangs around Zoe for a while, but when he gets to the bar to get her a drink, he doesn’t actually return to her. Shaw shoots him a vile look while he makes his order. He only sees part of it as he gives her a once over and flashes her a smile. Shaw raises a single eyebrow at him in return. Her first instinct is to be offended when he walks off into the crowd with his drinks without giving her a second look, but she’s actually pretty relieved.

“What happened?” John asks over her earpiece.

“Nothing,” Shaw says. She realizes she probably should have at least given it a chance to flirt with him or something – she has some tricks that she knows would have worked on him like magic – but she just doesn’t have it in her tonight.

Her gut starts filling with regret, though, when she sees the guy walking straight over to Root. He leans close to her and says something into her ear. His hand is casually resting on Root’s hip. Shaw’s nostrils flare.

Root looks straight at her while she says something back to him. She has that wicked smile on her face and it sends a firecracker from Shaw’s throat to her gut. The guy hands Root the other drink.

Not only is Root perfectly capable of handling herself with a perverted douchebag, she is also a great actress, which shouldn’t come as a surprise to Shaw since she’d had her fooled from the moment they met, but Shaw can’t help but feel uneasy. Root doesn’t seem awfully terrified or uncomfortable whenever she flashes her eyes up at Shaw. She seems more amused with the way Shaw is looking back at her than anything.

That brat probably thinks she is being jealous, Shaw realizes. That’s not true. She just doesn’t want Root to get hurt by a dangerous guy. She has every right to be concerned.

“You okay, Shaw?”

Shaw damn near drops her glass on the floor when Zoe slides up next to her.

“I’m fine,” she scoffs. She quickly remembers to take a sip of the drink in her hand.

“Well, it looks like he picked his poison,” Zoe says. “Wanna come help me and John set up the rest of the trap?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Shaw says, squinting through the crowd.

Root is standing alone again. The number is chatting – and indubitably, feeling – up some other woman. Root gives Shaw a desperate look as she starts making her way over. She taps in to their earwigs before she reaches them.

“It turns out I don’t really know what to do with men,” she states.

“What did you do?” John asks.

“I may or may not have dropped some hints that I’m not really that much into guys.” She rolls her own eyes to avoid eye contact as John asks her the inevitable,

“Why would you do that?”

“He’s a creep, okay? I didn’t think I could talk to him much longer without shooting him a few inches north of his kneecaps.” She sits down on the stool next to Shaw’s. “I’m sorry, but I’m sure we can think of another way.”

Shaw hands Root her drink and makes clear with a nod of her head that she can drink it. Then she shifts uncomfortably on her stool before muttering, “I think I might have an idea.”

Root and Zoe look at her from both sides, and she doesn’t look up, but she’s sure John is watching her too.

“What is it?” Zoe asks.

Shaw already hates herself for even thinking of this, but she’s also pretty sure that it’s gonna work. She glances over at Root to find her soft eyes looking back, to make sure that they will be on the same page about this. She takes a deep breath before she starts talking.

“Only one thing a good old pervert loves more than _one_ hot woman,” she says, and she can’t stop a smirk from creeping on her face. She looks back at Root to see if she is getting the memo. It doesn’t take long before the words register and she shows her distinctively mischievous Root grin.

“Zoe, you need to make sure he sees us,” Shaw continues.

“Will do.” Zoe smiles and winks at her and Root.

“John, get ready to move.” She finally looks up at the top of the staircase to find him. “This shouldn’t take long.”

“What is happening?” John responds, sounding, and looking, utterly confused.

Shaw slides off her stool but waits for Root to finish the drink and set the glass on the bar behind her. She holds out her hand to help her off her stool.

“For the mission, right?” Root teases.

“All for the mission,” Shaw replies, her eyes dark and her lips curling just slightly. They do a quick check to see if everyone is in position before Root slips her arm around Shaw’s waist. There is a long look between them while Shaw puts her arms over Root’s shoulders and they lean into each other. They’ve never done this in public before and it brings a certain thrill to it that Shaw hadn’t really foreseen. Their noses touch and Root’s breath hitches slightly. Then Shaw scoffs and goes straight for the price.

They kiss with soft lips as they pull each other closer with their arms. Shaw feels more than hears Root humming quietly.

“Sex it up a little, ladies, it’s not a wedding photoshoot,” Zoe comes through their earwigs.

Shaw scoffs and slides her hand over to the back of Root’s neck to pull her closer. She parts her lips and slides her tongue through. Root catches on quick enough. She lets her hands roam over Shaw’s back, lower and lower until Shaw gasps into her mouth.

Shaw would hate herself for being this obscene in public if she wasn’t enjoying this so much. She knows more pairs of eyes in the room are fixated on them than they intended, but when she opens her eyes and searches the crowd for the number’s face, she knows it paid off. She smiles in victory while keeping eye contact with the guy.

She lets go of Root’s lips and moves her own up to her good ear.

“So who’s gonna invite him to come outside with us?” she croaks. She kisses the soft skin below her jaw as Root turns her head to look at the number. Shaw prays she didn’t just attempt to wink at him.

Root moves her hand over Shaw’s hip protectively. “I’ll do it.”

“You sure?” Shaw asks, not taking the risk to lean back and look at Root’s face to see if she means it. She hopes her tone expressed enough concern for Root to know Shaw wouldn’t mind if she didn’t want to talk to him again. But then warm lips are pressing against her cheekbone and Root hums into her ear, “I’ll be right back, sweetie.”

Shaw’s eyes scan Root’s backside up and down as she disappears into the crowd. She doesn’t really know what to do now, so she sits back on her bar stool and watches – with less venom this time – how Root starts talking to the number.

She didn’t tap on her earwig so Shaw doesn’t know what they are saying, but she trusts her to use the right words this time. She puts up a fake smile and a seductive wave and she wishes she had a straw to bite to finish the look – the way she learned from the best – when Root points her out to the guy.

He seems to have forgotten about her resentful glance earlier and is now looking at her like Bear does when she’s about to give him a treat. Sucker. The number. Not Bear.

Root has her hand on his shoulder and puts her face close to his as she tells him one last thing. Then she makes her way back over to Shaw and kisses her, because she can do that now and she will not let the opportunity go to waste.

“What’s going on?” John asks impatiently.

Root taps on her earpiece and answers, “He’s gonna meet us out back in five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” Shaw asks.

“I told him you needed to get me warmed up first,” she says with a dark smirk. “So let’s go.” She takes Shaw’s hand and starts leading the way to the door.

“That’s disgusting,” Shaw says.

“I know, right?” Root agrees, looking over her shoulder with a frown.

Zoe and John are staying behind to follow the number when he comes after them. When they get to the back alley, Shaw starts sorting out her arsenal. She could only fit a small gun in her purse, but it still needs to be loaded and silenced. Root stares at her while she does so.

“How much time left?” Shaw asks without looking up from her gun.

“2 minutes, 24 seconds.”

Shaw scoffs at the accuracy. What else did she expect?

She’s done fidgeting with her gun now, so she leans with her back to the brick wall, laying her left hand over the right one holding the gun. She sniffs her nose and looks up to the sky, even though there’s not much to see there. She can’t even explain to herself why, but she doesn’t want to look at Root right now. It’s probably the dress.

“That was a good plan,” Root says. She sounds more serious than usual, but Shaw doesn’t want to risk catching her with that annoying grin she does whenever she feels like she has won that twisted little game that Shaw doesn’t even wanna take part of. She didn’t win this time. Shaw was the one that caught Root by surprise tonight.

“Full of them,” Shaw mutters. Root leans closer to her side.

“Could you admit, though,” she teases, “that my first chat with him made you a tiny bit jealous?” There is that grin. Shaw can see it from the corner of her eyes, even as she rolls them away with a sigh.

“I wasn’t jealous,” Shaw huffs. “I was… worried.”

“About me?” Root purrs.

“Yes.” Shaw dares herself to look her in the eyes as she says that.

“I knew it.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Shaw smirks. She has to look away again for the next part. “You’re my friend.”

“Your friend?” Root laughs.

“What, is that not good enough?” Shaw retorts.

“No, it is! I just never thought I’d hear you say that.” Root has a genuine smile on her face. Until it fades and her eyes roll to the side, and Shaw knows the machine is telling her something.

“He’s coming,” she says. “12 seconds till he rounds the corner.”

Shaw looks down at the gun in her hand, hesitates for a moment, and then hands it over to Root, mumbling, “Hold this.”

“What are you doing,” Root hisses, as Shaw walks closer to the corner.

She clenches her fist and waits until she hears the footsteps coming closer.

As soon as the number’s face appears, Shaw’s fist is on it. The impact of the punch almost makes him fall over, but Shaw pulls him up by his shirt and smacks him against the wall, throwing another punch to the bottom of his nose. His head smashes on the brick and blood starts dripping from his nose, onto his stupid white shirt. A pained yell gets muffled by a blow to the jaw.

By the time John and Zoe round the corner the number is knock out on the ground. They look only slightly surprised as Shaw rubs her knuckles and steps back. She tilts her head and squints to check if the guy is still moving, but he’s out good.

“He’s all yours,” she says to John.

“What was that for?” Root asks, but she’s smiling and there’s something else in her eyes Shaw can’t quite place in the dim street light.

“He’s a bad guy,” Shaw defends herself. “That’s what they get.”

“Let’s load him in the car, Shaw,” John says. “I hope for you that he wakes up before we get to the precinct. I’ll tell my boss it was self-defense.”

“It kind of was,” Shaw reasons.

Zoe opens the car door while John and Shaw pick the perp off the sidewalk. They start bickering over whether they can’t just put him in the trunk to save themselves the hustle of getting him to sit straight in the backseat, but eventually it all works out.

“Guess the two of you are gonna have to Uber it,” John says when they’re all set to head off.

“We’ll be fine,” Root assures him.

“Yeah, we noticed,” Zoe jokes, as she opens the door to the passenger’s side. “Have a nice evening, girls.” Shaw rolls her eyes.

When they have waved them off, Root snakes her arm around Shaw’s waist again. Shaw doesn’t squirm away, but – to her own surprise – leans into her instead.

“You wanna go back inside?” she asks.

“Are you kidding me? I got douchebag blood all over my hands.” She looks down at them and realizes they’re actually not that dirty, but her fingers are a little shaky and her knuckles are already starting to bruise.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I think a guy poured his entire beer over me in there.” She looks down at her dress with her bottom lip in a pout. Shaw finds herself staring at that instead of the dress and bites her own lip.

“Looks like we’re both in need of a shower,” she says. She almost rolls her eyes at herself for being so blatantly obvious, but then she decides to just leave it hanging between them until Root catches on.

“Your place or mine?” Root smirks down at her as she bats her lashes.

“I highly doubt that you even _have_ a place.”

Root purses her lips and gives a small nod. “Your place it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> Feel free to comment or yell at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/samemeshaw)


	3. A Christmas Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three Christmases and one addition to the family

The last Christmas before Shaw is captured is a whole new experience for Root.

Her mother never was particularly fond of any kind of holiday and Christmas was no exception. They went to church like the good Christians her mother liked to think they were, but there were never any family dinners or big gifts when Root was a child. And after her mother died and she left Bishop for good, she was never in the same place long enough, never bonded with anybody enough to spend her Christmases any other way than alone, in cold apartments in big cities, typing away at her computer like most other nights.

She had tried attending parties, hacked herself onto the guest lists of the most exquisite galas, but it never gave her that sense of magic that she heard people in movies talk about. She liked strolling over the Christmas markets and fairs in the weeks before. She actually enjoyed watching the people making such a fuss over something that seemed so conceptual and vague to her. Though she had to admit that the lights were quite pretty.

There is a small flutter in her chest when Harold invites her to Christmas Eve in the safe house with Shaw, John and himself. She has been working with them for over a year now, but still, she sometimes fails to acknowledge she is actually a part of the team. It’s easy to tell Shaw trusts her well enough, but she can’t really get a sense of how Harold and John truly feel about her motives.

An uncontrollable smile creeps on her face as she tilts her head at Harold. “Who’s gonna be cooking?” she asks, with her eyebrows wiggling slightly.

Harold’s eyes grow wide as if he hadn’t considered the idea that there was gonna have to be some type of food on the table. He says it’s probably best to leave that decision to Shaw. Root agrees, and calls Shaw right after she leaves the subway.

“Seems like Harry finally got you an excuse to teach me how to make that heavenly lasagna of yours,” she says.

There is an audible sigh on the other end of the line, and then a feignedly annoyed, “Fine.”

 

Harold has put up a neatly decorated tree in the safe house, which stands in front of the window between the couch and the – now perfectly set – dinner table. He and John are dressed in exceptionally nice suits for the occasion. She has to blink twice to make sure she isn’t imagining it, but even Bear is wearing a bow tie on his collar.

Shaw, on the other hand, walks in fifteen minutes after Root does, wearing her usual black hoodie and skinny jeans. She gives Root’s long sleeved dress and the guys’ suits a once-over and then looks back down at her own attire, muttering, “You guys clearly overdressed.”

After a first round of scotch and wine, Root and Shaw take their second drinks into the kitchen to get started on the food. It’s the first time they cook a meal together, since they usually go out for food if the occasion presents itself, or eat some leftovers before going back to work after a night off.

Shaw grabs Root by her hips to shove her aside when she almost burns the meat. The gesture only causes Root to be more distracted from her cooking duties. Somewhere along the line Shaw takes off her hoodie to fight off the heat from the stove, leaving her toned shoulders uncovered by her tank top. She ends up preparing the rest of the lasagna on her own, with Root staring at her every move, her glass of wine in hand. Shaw doesn’t give any indication that this is bothering her, so as soon as the lasagna is in the oven, Root steps a little closer to her.

“Merry Christmas, Sameen,” she says, slipping an arm around her waist.

Before Shaw can object, Root leans in to place a soft kiss on her cheek. She hovers there for a moment as Shaw’s eyes flick to her lips.

“Merry Christmas,” Shaw replies softly. She straightens her back and lifts her chin up, sliding her lips slowly from Root’s jaw to her lips.

Root messily places her wine glass back on the counter . She can’t stop a little sigh from escaping her throat at the warm feeling of Shaw’s soft lips pressed against her own. Shaw’s hand rests down on her shoulder when she leans up to deepen the kiss.

Root’s grip around Shaw’s waist tightens as she spins her just enough to push her back into the kitchen counter.

Shaw’s free hand reaches behind her to hold on to the counter top while her other hand moves from Root’s shoulder to the hair on the back of her neck to pull her closer.

Root hums when their tongues meet and pulls back slightly with Shaw’s bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her fingers press hard against Shaw’s skin through the thin fabric of her tank top as she drags them to the front. She lets her hands roam over her stomach, feeling every curve of her abs . As she moves her hands upwards, she lets go of Shaw’s lips and leans down to bite hard on the tendon in her neck at the same time as she squeezes her breasts, hard.

Shaw throws her head back with a moan – a bit too loud, considering John and Harold are in the other room.

Root knows she’s going to pay for that as soon as she hears it.

She feels the hand at the back of her neck gripping her hair and jerking her head away from Shaw’s neck. She hisses in pain as Shaw grabs one of her wrists with the other hand and yanks it off her chest.

Before Root knows it she is spun around and trapped between the counter and Shaw , with both of Shaw’s hand flat on her ass. Shaw leans down and her hands grip the flesh on the back of her thighs and Root is hoisted onto the counter top in one quick lift.

She lets out a pained whimper when her ass lands on something pointy. She untangles her hands from Shaw’s hair, but Shaw doesn’t remove her mouth from Root’s neck as she wriggles around to take the fork out from under her butt. An excessive suck on her carotid makes her elbow jerk, knocking her glass of wine over onto the hardwood kitchen floor.

She opens her eyes just in time to watch the glass shatter and spill the wine all over the floor.

“Fuck,” Root blurts.

“Leave it,” Shaw mutters into the wet skin on her neck.

“It’s red wine, Shaw,” she argues, but before either of them can say another word, there is a knock on the door.

“Everything okay in there?” John’s voice asks.

Right.

This is a Christmas party, and they are supposed to be cooking dinner for their friends, who are right in the other room.

The oven’s timer doesn’t grant them enough time to finish their sudden burst of passion without letting the lasagna burn, and Shaw is not going to let that happen.

They return to the living room a while later with the lasagna, a special dish in a bowl for Bear and a pink flush on both of their cheek. Shaw ignores John’s smug remark about “getting into the Christmas spirit” and the way Harold’s wide eyes avoid theirs at any cost. Root, however, manages to steer the conversation another way with a wide smirk on her face, suppressing the slight frustration she feels low in her stomach.

They manage to get through the dinner with just a few hot glances between them. The food is good enough to satisfy them both in a different way, and the yearning in the back of their minds vanishes almost completely when everyone is done eating and Harold reveals he has bought each of them a present.

Root can feel her own eyes light up as he puts three wrapped boxes onto the table.

Aside from the occasional new toothbrush or pair of socks her mother would get her, she has never actually received a Christmas gift before. She has bought herself some fancy gifts around the month of December in the past, but she finds now that it’s different when somebody else buys them for you. She feels excitement bubbling in her chest before she can even start to guess what’s in her box.

Harold has gotten each of them a new gun, different models in the same series, so they can share ammo. It’s a reminder that they are still at war, but by the way Shaw and John inspect their new pieces with a sort of youthful lust in their eyes, Root knows no one is particularly bothered by it.

By now Root has acquired an eye for noticing when Shaw has had enough of genuine social interaction and if she is being frank she can’t wait to get her home herself. They excuse themselves, thanking Harold for the wonderful evening. Shaw takes her time saying and kissing goodbye to Bear. Not even John expresses surprise that they are clearly going home together and for some reason that makes Root smile.

“That was the most fun I ever had on Christmas Eve,” she says, swaying slightly from the alcohol in her blood as they walk down the street to hail a cab. She bumps into Shaw, who – to her surprise – doesn’t push her away, but grabs her waist and pulls her closer as their footsteps sync.

Root can’t tell if she did it to keep her from walking into a lamppost or if she is more buzzed herself than Root thought she was, but she doesn’t see any reason to complain about it, as Shaw replies, “Oh this Christmas Eve ain’t over yet.”

 

* * *

 

The Christmas after that is a whole other experience.

Root doesn’t stroll around any markets or fairs, she doesn’t buy any gifts for anyone – not even herself – and while she contemplates going back to New York for just a week or so to see Harold and John, and even Lionel, she decides against it.

There’s something about seeing them that makes her sadder than she gets when she is alone. It’s probably the fact that she associates them with Shaw, and Shaw isn’t with them anymore.

She hasn’t seen any of them in weeks, maybe even months. She hasn’t really been counting the days. The only days she counts are the ones she has spent without Shaw so far, and the number is getting too high for her to grasp. It doesn’t sound like a reasonable amount of time anymore. It’s just a number, a number she has the machine add one to every night before she goes to sleep alone, in a cold bed, in a strange city, after another day of trying to achieve a goal that only seems to slip further away from her the harder she tries.

Root has spent most of her Christmases alone, and she tells herself she should be used to it by now. It had never bothered her, she was okay with the plausibility that Christmas didn’t exist for her to enjoy, that it was for the other people, like most other things in life. She couldn’t even remember what Christmas was supposed to feel like, until she got a taste of it last year.

She sits in the windowsill of her hotel room on Christmas eve, looking out over a city she doesn’t recognize. There’s a giant Christmas tree a few blocks away from her and she can see the peak of it. She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until she feels a tear rolling down her cheek. She can’t get herself to wipe it away, but she curses at herself for being so dramatic about something as stupid as being alone on Christmas. She wouldn’t have even stopped to think about it before all of this.

Before she met Shaw.

“Shaw,” she whispers. Her breath clouds up the window in front of her. “Sameen.”

When she was younger she used to play that game with herself a lot, where you said a word so many times that you couldn’t believe it was a word anymore. It would drive her crazy, but she was fascinated by how easy it was to make herself doubt the truth of simple facts like the name of an object. Or a person.

“Sameen.” Her throat feels hard and narrow, like something is stuck in there and it makes it hard to talk. But she keeps saying it regardless.

Maybe if she manages to forget her name, she will miss her less. Maybe if she starts to doubt Shaw ever existed in the first place, she can stop missing her altogether.

She says the name for a long time without pausing, until it sounds like a chant or a song, but it never loses its meaning. She stops when her phone buzzes on the desk beside the window.

She picks it up, and a picture of Shaw fills the screen.

“Hey,” Root whispers, tracing Shaw’s jawline with her thumb.

The picture disappears to make place for words on the screen.

_Don’t give up_

“I thought you weren’t gonna help me out with this.” She hasn’t exactly been on good terms with the machine since she chose to defy her wishes to go look for Shaw, but Root doesn’t regret her decision and she’s not going to apologize to a machine anyway – god or not. The machine will tell her how many days it has been since Shaw was taken, but she won’t give her a location or anything useful, really, so Root isn’t particularly eager to talk to her at all.

_I will not purposely endanger your life_

_But you appear to be in distress_

“Since when do you care?” Root asks.

_It is Christmas_

Root scoffs. “Appears so.”

_Would you like me to give you something?_

“What?”

_It is a Christmas tradition in the modern western society for people to give each other things without expecting payment in return,_

“I know what a gift is,” Root clarifies, unable to keep the snarl out of her voice. She’s not sure the machine would even pick up on that. “What is it you wanna give me?”

_A reminder_

Root finally wipes her cheeks dry and takes a deep breath. “Bring it.”

The screen goes black for a moment before something pops up. It’s a file. A classified government file, with Shaw’s name on it.

She remembers reading this file, weeks before she had found herself the opportunity to actually meet the woman she was reading about in person. She had been impressed with every achievement listed, every little fact about this remarkably skilled agent described on the paper intrigued her, and even if she could find an easier way to the machine, she still needed to meet Shaw. She had to find a way.

And she did find a way. Because she didn’t give up.

She gets up from the windowsill and closes the curtains without giving the tree another look. She goes straight to bed, but she keeps the phone close to her face as she reads the file. All of it. Every single detail about the woman that she found, fell in love with and then lost again.

But the machine knows Shaw is still out there. She is still alive and still fighting. And if Shaw is strong enough to stay her brave, fearless self under Samaritan’s reign, then Root is strong enough to keep fighting for her.

When she finishes reading the file, she almost falls asleep immediately. But a soft whisper in her ear keeps her awake a minute longer.

_“Sixty – seven.”_

She sighs deeply and whispers, “Merry Christmas, Sameen,” before drifting off in a deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

The first Christmas after Shaw returns has a different kind of vibe to it completely.

It’s better than the last, because Shaw is there. Everything is better when Shaw is there, Root has learned over the past year.

But Harold and John are gone, and as far as the machine can tell, they are never coming back. The subway is destroyed, the safe house cleaned out and sold, and Root’s heart is filled with a strange type of melancholy that makes her feel exhausted and comfortably warm at the same time.

The days after they beat Samaritan had been an odd victory. The fight was finally over, but it seemed too surreal for both Root and Shaw to be cheering about it. They have somewhat won the war, but it has cost them their friends and now they are left with a machine that still needs to learn how to crawl and without a purpose for themselves.

That’s quite new to both of them. They always had a purpose. They have been skipping from one job to the next their whole lives, never pausing to think about taking a break. But now they’re somewhat forced to take one, without knowing how long it will last.

Honestly, some time off isn’t the worst thing for either of them. They have been spending it in Shaw’s old loft in Brooklyn, and though the decor doesn’t make for the most uplifting of surroundings, the heating works fine and the view is nice. And the company is even better. Root’s body uses the time to properly piece itself back together, and Shaw’s mind seems to be handling the calm and quiet days better and better along the way. She still has nightmares a few times a week, but she has given up on trying not to sleep at all, like she did in the beginning.

Sometimes she stares off in the distance at random moments, and Root notices her breathing getting heavier. Not even Bear’s head in her lap could pull her out of her head when she was in too deep. Root didn’t quite know what to do when that happened in the beginning, but they have learned to communicate it through gestures and touches.

In the week before Christmas, Shaw sits on a chair by the table, beside the Christmas tree Root had insisted on putting up, along with all the ugly mismatched decorations. A few weeks before, Shaw had dragged the tree up the stairwell of her building all on her own, while scolding Root all the way for picking such a big tree. Then she had let Root have at it for the rest of the afternoon to decorate it, and immediately regretted that decision when she saw the result.

She had lifted Root up from the floor so she could put the golden star on the top, and from the moment Shaw had put her down and stepped back, she had rolled her eyes every single time she looked at the tree.

But now her eyes are fixed on the window, but Root suspects she’s not really seeing the city behind it. She walks up to the kitchen block and makes Shaw a cup of tea.

Shaw used to claim that she hated tea, that it was just for people who were too lame to drink coffee. But ever since she came back from South Africa, every cup of coffee she’s had made her shaky and slightly nauseous, and though she didn’t want to admit that, she hadn’t put up a fight when Root suggested she could switch to tea for a while to build her caffeine resistance back up. Now Shaw only ever buys Chinese gunpowder tea from the deli down the street. Root is quite certain it’s only because the name is still badass enough for Shaw’s liking. It’s a small fact that makes her smile as she watches the water turn brown.

Shaw doesn’t look up when Root sets the mug down on the table beside her. She lays her hand on Shaw’s shoulders and gently squeezes the tendons leading to her neck. Shaw moves with Root’s touches, but she doesn’t take her eyes off the spot on the window.

Root leans down to press a kiss behind Shaw’s left ear. That grabs her attention.

Shaw pulls away and turns her head to look at Root’s eyes. It grants her another kiss on her cheek.

“Tell me about last Christmas,” Shaw croaks. “With the lasagna in the safe house.”

It occurs to Root that Shaw had no Christmas at all last year, that Shaw was even more alone than she had been, and maybe the holidays had just passed by without her even knowing. So Root tells her about the Christmas with the lasagna in the safe house, with the impromptu make out session in the kitchen and the too-loud moan, the spilled wine on the floor and the embarrassed face that Harold couldn’t seem to put off when they came back to the living room.

Shaw cracks a smile at that, and leans in to kiss Root over her shoulder. Then she turns back to drink the tea, and Root sits on the other side of the table, ready to tell Shaw another memory of them if she needs to.

 

On Christmas eve, they stay at home. Lionel has invited them over for dinner, but warned them about his family, and they decided they’d rather catch up with him another time.

This time Shaw has decided to make a stew from one of her mother’s recipes. It takes a long time to cook and Shaw makes sure to check the counter top for forgotten wine glasses before she throws Root on top of it.  
Root finds there’s something inherently amusing about having Shaw’s face between her legs so close to the place where their Christmas feast is boiling on the stove, and she can’t help but crack a joke or two about Shaw’s appetizer before she comes with a loud yell. Aside from Bear – who has learned over time not to be alarmed by noises like these – and maybe some unfortunate neighbors, there’s no one around to hear anyway.

Shaw comes back up with a grin and Root tilts her head down for a wet kiss that tastes more like herself than like Shaw. She whines in protest when Shaw steps away from her and leans over the pot of stew instead. Root leans back against the wall to gather herself while Shaw stirs the stew with a wooden spoon.

When she grins up at her, Root jumps off the counter and turns to trap Shaw between herself and the stove top.

Shaw almost burns her hand on the stove when Root sucks on her neck with her fingers two knuckles deep inside Shaw. Root catches sight of it in time and grabs her wrist with her free hand to pull it against Shaw’s chest. She uses it to keep Shaw upright as she cries out and trembles while she comes.

Root eases the pace of her fingers and slots her knee between Shaw’s legs to steady her before she pulls out.

“Is it time for my appetizer now?” she hums as she moves her hand up towards her mouth.

But Shaw is quick to intervene, grabbing her wrist and muttering, “You better wash those off.” She follows up with, “Under the tap,” when Root gives her a wicked grin.

Despite the distractions, the stew turns out perfect. Root still manages to be pleasantly surprised every time Shaw puts a flawlessly homecooked meal on the table. Shaw still pretends like she’s offended Root doesn’t expect her to know her way around a kitchen at this point.

“I got you a present,” Shaw says when both of their plates are empty.

Root tilts her head in surprise. They have shared the same living space for months now and she never noticed Shaw hiding anything from her. Then again, she shouldn’t underestimate Shaw’s ability to be discrete, because she walks over to the fridge and takes out a red envelope Root hadn’t seen before. She hands it to Root and sits back down at the table.

Root opens the envelope and reveals four plane tickets. Two from New York to the Bahamas and two for the way back a week later. Her smile widens when she notices the dates.

“Shaw…” Root gets up and walks around the table to kiss Shaw with the tickets pressed between her hand and Shaw’s cheek.

“Thought we might be in need of a proper break from the cold,” Shaw explains.

Root puts her leg over Shaw’s and settles down in her lap, putting her arms around her neck and kissing her again.

“We might be,” she says. “I didn’t peg you as the type to take her lover on a romantic Valentine’s getaway, though.”

Shaw scoffs lightly and rolls her eyes. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that yet.”

“Mmm, but I did,” she hums, pressing her grin against Shaw’s soft cheek. She places a kiss on it and stays sitting there with her arms around Shaw for as long as she lets her. They have been hugging a lot since Shaw came back, but she still feels a bit confined sometimes when she isn’t getting a good enough grip on reality. She doesn’t give any indication that this is the case right now, though.

“I got you a present too,” Root says then. She enjoys the way Shaw looks up with curiosity all over her beautiful face. “But Santa won’t be delivering it until tomorrow morning.”

Shaw rolls her eyes and sighs in fake disappointment.

“Oh, stop pouting,” Root says, but she far from means it. Shaw’s pout is Root’s third favorite thing to look at – the first thing being Shaw’s smile and the second the face she makes when she climaxes. “I assure you it will be worth the wait.”

“Right,” Shaw says, not sounding too convinced.

“Trust me.” Root kisses her again. She slips her tongue between their lips before pulling it back and teasing, “Dessert first?”

“You got dessert?” Shaw asks when she parts her lips from Root’s. “Please tell me it has chocolate in it. Or that it’s a pie. Any kind, unless it’s something weird like banana again.”

Root leans back to give her a look of disbelief. Shaw has been dealing with her bullshit for so long now and she still doesn’t catch a hint when there’s food involved.

“How are you still hungry?” Root says, shaking her head with a smile.

Shaw’s face turns to a smirk and then an eyeroll that has her whole head tilting backwards. “You meant sex.”

“Yeah, I meant sex,” Root repeats with a grin.

Shaw looks back at Root and raises her eyebrows slightly. “That’s fine too.”

 

Root leaves early the next morning to pick up Shaw’s present.

It had taken her a while to think of something good to get Shaw. A new gun didn’t feel personal enough, no matter how good or big. A new car seemed too excessive and – since they aren’t really planning on going anywhere they can’t get to with a New York cab any time soon – unnecessary. She wanted to give her something that could help her ground herself in reality, or that would keep her excited to stick around even if it was just a simulation. Once she got the right idea, she decided she wasn’t gonna come up with anything better.

When she is struggling to get it up the staircase back to Shaw’s apartment, her phone rings, and the machine transfers it to her implant, one of the first tricks Root reinstalled into her code a few months back.

“Don’t come outside right now,” Root warns Shaw.

“Where the hell are you?” Shaw replies. Her voice is raspy with sleep and Root smiles.

“I’m in the stairwell. Can you go sit on the bed with your eyes closed?”

“No,” Shaw says.

“Please? Bear will keep you safe,” Root promises.

There’s a sigh on the other end of the line. “Hurry up.”

“I’ll be right there, honey. No peeking until I say you can look, okay?”

“Or what?” Shaw challenges her, but Root knows she will listen.

When she gets inside she has to keep Bear from getting too wound up. His excitement is only making Shaw more impatient. She has a fake angry look on her face and it looks slightly comical with her eyes squeezed shut.

Root tells Shaw she can open her eyes after she sets the small gray puppy on the sheets in front of her. She watches her eyes grow from wonder to disbelief, to pure joy as the puppy leaps onto her lap. Its tail is wagging uncontrollably as it stands up to lick Shaw’s face with enthusiasm.

“Hi!” Shaw says with a high and soft voice. She rubs the soft fur on the puppy’s back before lifting it up to inspect it, the biggest smile Root has ever seen never falling off her face.

“Merry Christmas, Sameen,” she says. Shaw can only look up and huff a surprised laugh in return.

Bear walks up to the edge of the bed with interest, but he refrains from jumping on the bed when Root tells him to stay.

“Her name was Rose at the shelter,” Root informs her. “I guess you can change it if you want.”

“Rose?” Shaw scoffs, but she doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the name. “Pretty name for a pretty dog.” She kisses the dog’s jaw and it licks her face happily in return.

“That’s what I thought,” Root says. There’s a flutter in her chest as she watches Shaw and the tiny little blue eyed pup.

“Is she a pit bull?” Shaw asks, looking up with the dog’s face still buried in her neck.

“For the most part,” Root tells her. “They weren’t entirely sure. But she’s pretty, and she’s healthy, so I guess that’s all that matters.”

“Come here,” Shaw says to her. Root leans in to kiss her on the lips. But Rose catches wind of their actions and puts her tongue back on Shaw’s face, and on Root’s, and wherever else she can get it before they pull apart and both chuckle.

“Hey, little girl,” Shaw coos and returns her attention to the pup. “Oh, look at her eyes.”

Bear peeps and tilts his head from beside the bed.

“Oh come here, big man,” Root calls him. He jumps up without hesitating and starts sniffing the newcomer. His tail hangs still when Rose is sniffing him back, but he starts wagging it again when Root asks, “Do you like your new sister?”

Shaw huffs a laugh and looks from Rose, to Bear, to Root, and Root swears she has never seen so much glee in her eyes.

“Too bad he’s gonna have to lose his balls now ,” Root breaks the joyous moment. Bear stops wagging his tail for a moment and looks at her with his lips turned down as if he understood what she just said.

Shaw laughs. “We’ll see how he handles it.”

They all get off the bed when Shaw thinks Rose is about to pee on the sheets. Root suggests they go out for a walk and take all the new puppy things out of the car on the way back.

They spend the rest of the day adjusting to the new addition to their household and being glad that Shaw’s apartment has a concrete floor that’s easy to wipe clean.

“Think it’s safe to say this was the best Christmas ever,” Shaw says when they go to bed after a shower that night.

Root takes a deep breath and heaves out a content sigh as she falls back on her pillow. “I think so too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the middle part. Hope Rose's introduction made up for that.
> 
> Thanks [Nina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Koalacosima) for proofreading
> 
> Comment or talk to me on [tumblr](http://shawhi.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/samemeshaw) :)


	4. 1,000 Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw's first night back. Immediately follows the game of chicken in 5x09

It doesn’t take long for Shaw to take the barrel off her own temple and lower her gun. Root follows her lead soon after and steps closer to Shaw to take the gun out of her hand. She doesn’t resist, her eyes distant again, not seeming to be focused on anything.

“There’s a safehouse three blocks from here,” Root says. “I don’t think you’ve been there before, so there’s no harm in going there, right?”

Shaw’s eyes wander back up to Root’s. She swallows thickly before nodding. It’s a small nod, but it seems certain enough.

They walk the three blocks side by side, in silence. Root can’t stop looking at Shaw from the corners of her eyes. Each time she catches sight of her, a warm tingle in her stomach takes her breath away and she feels an enormous grin forcing its way onto her face. She has a million questions on her mind, but from what she gathered, Shaw probably doesn’t want to talk about it in the middle of the street, with cameras lurking on every corner. And she doesn’t want to risk overwhelming her by asking too much. She mostly just wants to see her safe and warm, inside, where no one can hurt her or take her away.

“Are you hungry?” Root asks when they’ve almost reached the doors to the apartment building. There’s a 24 hour deli across the street that sells fresh bread and slices of pizza. She points at it and Shaw follows her gaze.

For a moment she looks at the storefront with a blank expression. Then she looks down at herself and back to Root and mumbles, “Yeah,” before she starts crossing the street without looking.

Root catches up with a quick stride. Something in her heart seems to pull her closer to Shaw automatically, as if it would stop beating if she strayed too far away from her again.

“Do you want coffee?” Root asks as they wander through the aisles of the deli. Shaw is scanning the ceilings almost obsessively and she keeps looking over her shoulder with quick movements and wide eyes. Root catches her rubbing a spot behind her ear more than once, but she doesn’t question it.

“Sameen,” Root says softly, but it’s enough to grab Shaw’s attention. “It’s okay. We’re almost there. Do you want coffee?”

“No,” Shaw replies. She lifts her hand, index finger pointing up as she thinks. “Hot chocolate.”

“Okay,” Root says, slightly surprised. She makes sure they have all the ingredients to make the best hot chocolate she can before they make their way to the bakery section.

Root can tell by the glistening look in Shaw’s eyes as she glances at the different types of pizzas in the display that Samaritan didn’t serve her the tastiest of meals. A warm shiver runs up her rib cage as she watches Shaw practically drool over the sight of the food in front of her, with her hands on the glass like a child in front of a toy store.

“You don’t have to settle on just _one_ , you know,” Root smiles when she sees Shaw’s indecisive look. “Pick whatever you want.”

When the clerk comes over to help them, Shaw orders four different slices.

“Aren’t you gonna get your disgusting pineapple pizza?” Shaw asks while the clerk fills a box with her slices.

Root looks at Shaw’s face. Her lips are curled up slightly when she looks back. It’s the first hint of the mischievous smirk Root knows and loves, and has been missing for the past ten months.

“I already had some this week,” she says with a teasing smile. She’s a little surprised Shaw even remembers about their little argument. Ever since the first time they ate pizza together over a year ago it had been an ongoing banter between them. Root ordering a pizza Hawaii and Shaw ranting about the audacity to butcher the sanctity of the Italian cuisine with pieces of a goddamn tropical fruit. At some point Root wasn’t even sure if it was actually her favorite pizza anymore. She just kept ordering it to annoy Shaw. She was ridiculously cute when she was going off about certain culinary abominations.

Shaw shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything. The little smirk that’s still on her lips is enough for Root to know they’ve still got it. Whatever it was they had before, it’s still there.

Shaw’s nerves seem to have calmed down by the time they walk through the door of the modest, cozy apartment. She’s more focused on getting the pizza from the box to her stomach and settles at the counter by the door immediately. Root makes the hot chocolate in the small open kitchen. When she’s done she sets the two mugs on the counter and sits on the stool next to Shaw’s.

“Cinnamon?” Shaw asks, looking up at her as she raises the mug to her lips.

“Check,” Root answers. She’s content watching Shaw eat and drink like she hasn’t had warm solid food in months. God knows if she has. Her heart feels heavy in her chest, but light at the same time. She keeps feeling small waves washing over her each time she realizes Shaw is really _here_. Right in front of her.

After months and months of looking for her and dreading that she would never see her again, Root just bumped into her in the middle of a park at night. She knows it wasn’t exactly a coincidence, that the machine set it up for them, but it feels like a miracle nonetheless.

“You know,” Root breaks the comfortable silence after Shaw starts her second slice. “For someone who advocates so strongly against exotic fruit on pizza, you seem awfully pleased with this combination of _hot cocoa_ and pizza that’s going on right now.”

Shaw looks up as if Root just seriously offended her and her entire family. “You can’t compare those things. The cocoa isn’t _on_ the pizza.”

“Right,” Root says, smirking at her around the edge of her mug.

Root puts the pizza box away in the fridge when it’s clear that Shaw isn’t gonna start on a third slice. While Shaw waits on the couch, she checks the bedroom to see if the bed is made and if there’s anything for them to sleep in.

Finch has safehouses like this one all over the city, so that – in case of emergency – they can get somewhere fast. All of them are stocked with canned food, new toothbrushes and sets of clean, gender unspecific clothes. Root grabs two black basic t-shirts from the closet and returns to the living room to hand one to Shaw.

Shaw starts undressing without hesitation and Root isn’t sure if she’s expected to look away, but she doesn’t. She looks at the soft brown skin of Shaw’s stomach and her fingers itch with the memory of the heat of it. Her breathing speeds up as she scans Shaw’s exposed body for any new scars. But before she can really register any, the skin is covered up again and Shaw is clad in a shirt that’s so big on her it’s almost comical.

Root follows her into the bedroom when she’s done to make sure she’s warm enough, has enough blankets, feels comfortable enough to sleep at all. She has been contemplating whether she’s gonna sleep here or on the couch. Shaw has shot her mostly distrustful looks between some warm ones and Root doesn’t want to pressure her into anything by asking what she’d prefer, so she’s fine with spending the night on the couch. She tells Shaw this before she turns to leave the room.

“The bed’s big enough,” Shaw croaks, just loud enough for Root to hear as she is about to step through the doorway. She abruptly stops walking and bites back a grin. When she looks over her shoulder, Shaw is looking at her with big eyes and a serious expression.

“It sure is,” Root says. She flicks off the lights and pads back over to the bed.

Shaw turns over as Root crawls under the covers on the other side.

“They could never get you quite right,” she says, tugging the silk sheet up to her chin.

“What?” Root asks.

“In the simulations. There was always something off about you.” Her voice is soft. Almost as soft as the way she’s looking at Root. “I didn’t really notice until now.”

Root smiles. She doesn’t know exactly what those simulations entailed, and she can only guess what they did to Shaw’s mind. But apparently she played a big part in them, and if being here with her is gonna help Shaw get back on her feet, Root will gladly stay by her side for as long as it takes.

She looks at Shaw’s face and tries hard to capture this moment, to make sense of Shaw being here, in the same bed as her, after months and months of sleeping alone in cold beds, only hoping she would ever find Shaw, but never actually daring to believe it. She never lost count of the days she has been wishing for exactly this, to have Shaw back within reach. The amount of nightmares she’s had since the last time she saw her, waking up with the ghost of that last kiss on her lips…

Root doesn’t know why her breath catches when Shaw touches her neck. Her hand is cupping Root’s jaw and she strokes her thumb across her cheek.

Root leans in almost automatically and Shaw does the same. When their noses touch, Root lets out a shaky breath and pulls back just a little. She moves back in again, but when their lips almost touch, she tilts her head in favor of resting her forehead against Shaw’s. The deep brown of her eyes is so close, and suddenly so overwhelming.

“You okay?” Shaw whispers.

Root can only hum in reply. She feels Shaw’s warm breath on her lips. Her soft pink lips, so close to her own. Ten months of hoping for this – erasing the memory of that last kiss and replacing it with a better one – and now it seems like too much.

But before she knows it, Shaw’s lips are brushing against her own. She inhales sharply and then she can’t hold it back anymore. She kisses Shaw back the way she has dreamed it, soft and hard at the same time. Shaw’s lips taste like fire and something sweet.

Root puts her hand on Shaw’s side and scoots a little closer. For some reason it feels vague, as if Shaw could still slip away from her at any moment. She wraps her arm around her waist and pulls her against her chest. Shaw’s hand slides from her cheek to the back of her neck as she deepens the kiss.

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until a tear slides off her nose. Shaw must feel it, along with the quivering breath and little moan that follows, and she pulls back a little bit. Root hums and tries to get her lips back on Shaw’s, but Shaw holds her back.

She wipes her thumbs across Root’s wet cheeks to dry them. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes look soft and slightly worried as she inspects Root’s face. Then she clumsily leans back in to kiss her cheekbone. She presses a line of small kisses to her neck.

Root focuses on the soft pecks on her skin while she gathers herself. Her arms are still clutched around Shaw’s middle when her mouth reaches the ticklish spot on the side of her neck.

Root squeals and squirms away a little. It sparks a memory from one of the first times they went home together after a mission. Shaw had had her pushed up against a wall in one of Root's temporary apartments. She was biting and sucking at her neck and when she reached that particular spot, Root had burst into laughter. Shaw backed away from her looking confused and slightly disturbed. Root quickly managed to regain her composure, but when Shaw went back straight to the same spot, she’d started laughing again. It had annoyed Shaw, or at least she’d pretended it had, to the point where she had grabbed Root’s hand roughly and held them pinned on the wall above her head as she bit into the spot – hard. It proved an effective way to cut off Root’s laugh, although the new sounds that erupted from her throat weren’t much quieter.

Root allows herself to let out a soft giggle while Shaw gently licks and sucks her ticklish spot. Her ragged breathing calms down as she relaxes into the feeling. She moves one of her hands up to Shaw’s head and tangles her fingers into her hair.

Shaw kisses her way back to Root’s chin. Root meets her mouth there with a smile and continues kissing her.

They kiss for a long time. Their hands glide over each other’s backs and their bare legs are tangled. Root wants to feel Shaw everywhere and by the way Shaw quietly moans into her mouth with every breath, Root knows she feels the same.

Root’s lips are tingling by the time Shaw starts tugging at the hem of her shirt. She rolls on her back and wriggles to help Shaw shove it up.

She wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do before, right after Shaw came back and obviously still needing a lot of time to work through stuff. She certainly hadn’t expected things to go in this direction on their walk here, and while Shaw was eating in silence. She was gonna sleep on the couch to give her some space, but now here they are, with their bodies pressed together under the silk covers, taking their clothes off. And since Shaw is the one taking the lead, Root doesn’t really see a point in stopping it now.

Root sits up a little while Shaw takes off her shirt and shuffles over to straddle her lap. She takes Root’s face in her hands and leans down to kiss her again. Root lets her own hands roam over Shaw’s stomach and bare legs. There’s a desperation in their touches and their mouths that makes them clutch and cling to each other’s skin, as if every inch of space between them is an evil to defeat.

They stop kissing for a second when Root pulls Shaw’s shirt over her head, but Shaw doesn’t miss a beat and immediately finds her mouth again.

Their breasts touch when Shaw leans down and Root breathes a loud sigh of relief. Shaw’s skin is so warm and soft, she wants to touch her everywhere, warm her hands on Shaw’s body and memorize every curve. One of Shaw’s hands is behind Root’s neck, holding her close, while the other explores her stomach and her breasts between their bodies. Her strong fingers dig into her skin with a gentleness Root hasn’t felt from her before. But the change is very welcome, judging by the deep, yearning flutters in her gut.

Shaw’s fingers stall at the bottom of Root’s stomach. She slides her other hand from Root’s neck to her hip, leaving a path of goosebumps in its wake. Before she starts tugging at her panties, she looks up at Root’s face.

Root just leans back up to catch her mouth and answers her unasked question by pulling Shaw’s boxers down. She wants to feel everything, everywhere. No more fabric itching between them. Just skin on skin in a sea of silk.

They have to do some clumsy fiddling to get both of their underpants off as fast as possible. Shaw leaves a trail of hot kisses over Root’s stomach while she crawls back up. The feeling of Shaw’s heated body between her bare legs makes her exhale sharply. A little moaning sound comes with it.

Shaw captures her mouth again as she settles over her. She worms an arm under Root’s neck and cups her jaw with her free hand. Root clasps her arms around Shaw’s ribs when she grinds her hips down on her thigh. Shaw’s own thigh slides against her own center just right and she lets out another moan. It gets muffled by Shaw’s lips, still tightly sealed with hers. The stupid tears come back, but she ignores it by losing herself in Shaw’s warmth completely.

She lays a hand between Shaw’s shoulder blades, pulling her as close as she possibly can. Her other hand slides down to Shaw’s ass and squeezes the soft flesh, guiding her slow movements. Their breasts press together with every roll of Shaw’s hips and their stomachs graze against each other smoothly. It’s almost too much for Root to process, but it hardly feels like enough.

“Oh fuck, I missed you,” Root breathes, without removing her lips from Shaw’s.

Shaw hums in reply and Root can’t really tell if it’s meant as a laugh or a sigh, or maybe even a sob . When she opens her eyes to check, Shaw just buries her face in Root’s neck and clasps at her shoulder with her hand. Her other hand rests on Root’s hipbone and she keeps gripping the skin with every move she makes.

Root bucks her hips in time with Shaw’s when she starts kissing her neck again. Now that the tension is out of her bones she doesn’t laugh, but instead croaks a shaky moan, louder than she had intended.

Shaw huffs a groan onto the wet skin in response and grinds down a little harder.

It doesn’t take long before they’re both panting into each other’s ears, lips brushing across cheeks and sweat on their foreheads. Shaw has an iron grip on Root’s shoulder and Root is sure it would hurt her old bullet wound scars if it was anyone but Shaw, if they were doing anything but this.

Root squeezes Shaw’s ass hard when she comes. Her brow furrows tightly and all the tears that were saved up in the corners of her eyes dripple to the sides as they squeeze shut. She arches her back and holds her breath for so long she can almost see stars. When she finally exhales, it’s in high pitched moans that she worries might hurt Shaw’s closest ear, but Shaw seems to rather thrive on the sounds and shudders to a halt with a long groan.

They both tremble when Shaw tries to move, so she just collapses on top of Root. They gasp for air for a few minutes, arms still folder around each other tightly. When they’ve both got their breath back, Shaw places a soft kiss against Root’s jaw.

Root shivers and smiles with satisfaction. She turns her head to kiss Shaw wherever she can get her lips fastest. They end up on the spot behind her left ear.

Shaw’s muscles tense.

Her head and hand shoot up at the same time. Her fingers touch the spot carefully and her eyes are wide.

“I’m sorry,” Root says with concern in her raspy voice. “Did I hurt you?”

Shaw looks down at her as if she didn’t realize she was there until now.

“Nuh,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “No.” She keeps grazing over the spot with her fingers nevertheless.

“I can check for you?” Root offers. She loosens the grip on her back.

She saw Shaw touching that spot earlier. She didn’t know what it meant, still doesn’t, but she suddenly feels bad about getting in bed with her so soon. She clearly isn’t quite herself yet. She has been confused the whole evening, and now Root has upset her. She almost squirms out from under her immediately, but then Shaw turns her head for her to look at the spot.

“Do you see anything?”

Root leans over to the side to turn on a light. She takes a close look behind Shaw’s ear, stroking her hair aside, and even though she doesn’t know what exactly she’s looking for, she can clearly see there’s nothing wrong.

“It looks fine, Sameen.” She slips her hand into the hair in the back of her neck and gently scratches the skin beneath her fingers.

Shaw mumbles something so soft Root can only see her lips moving. The only thing Root can make out is the words she says when she looks back down at her with those wide eyes. “This is real.”

“Yes,” Root whispers.

Shaw smiles. It’s not a smirk, like Root would have expected to see on her face after she made her come like she just did. Root can’t really place what kind of smile it is. She doesn’t think she has seen it on Shaw’s face before.

But then Shaw moves up and brushes her lips against Root’s nose, and Root thinks maybe it was the sliver of a reflection of the smile Shaw sees when Root looks at her. Shaw kisses her lips, but Root is smiling too much to properly kiss her back. She strokes her hand gently down Shaw’s spine and softly squeezes her hair instead.

“Welcome back, Shaw.”

Shaw doesn’t say anything for a minute. Then she cracks that smirk Root remembers so well and says, “If this is how you welcome me back I should leave more often.”

“No!” Root blurts out. She knows it was just a joke, but she can’t stop herself from protectively tightening her grip around Shaw’s middle. “I just got you back, you jerk.”

With her free hand, she grabs Shaw’s hand and plants a kiss on it before lacing their fingers together. Shaw looks at her and her face turns slightly more serious.

“I won’t go if you won’t,” Shaw mumbles shyly.

“I won’t,” Root promises. She strokes her thumb along Shaw’s jaw and Shaw leans into it.

She takes Root’s breath away with another kiss and a smile, before rolling off to turn off the light.

They both lie awake for a while, looking at each other in the same position they were in before they started kissing, until Shaw rolls over, turning her back to Root. Root almost thinks it’s the end of the physical affection for tonight.

But a few seconds later, Shaw reaches behind her until she finds Root’s arm and drapes it over herself like it’s a blanket. Root barely catches her mumbling something about being cold when she scoots over. She smiles as she wraps the rest of her body around Shaw’s back. And she notices that Shaw doesn’t feel like she’s cold at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame [Emilia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/youmeandem) for Shaw's awful joke at the end.
> 
> I had to resolve the pineapple discourse, it honestly broke my heart to have to type those awful things so dont @ me
> 
> Title is a Fifth Harmony song
> 
> Comment and find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/samemeshaw)


	5. Come Morning Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following last chapter's events, aka the morning after

Shaw wakes up some time before the sun rises over the city. Her breathing is ragged and she’s sweating all over. She has a small moment of panic as her brain switches from nightmare mode to trying to remember where the hell she is, her body stiffening when she recognizes the feeling of an arm slung over her side. 

Her fingers wrap tightly around the slim wrist. She pulls it back and pins it to the mattress as she turns over swiftly, trapping the body beneath her with an elbow across her chest, pushing down forcefully with wide eyes and a clenched jaw.

Root wakes with a surprised, raspy squeal. Shaw looks down at the sleepy, panicked look in her eyes and remembers the night before – the park, tackling Root to the ground, the pizza and the safehouse, kissing Root’s lips, her neck, and her stomach. 

Root tries to jerk her hand free and wriggles under the pressure of Shaw’s arm. It takes a couple of seconds before Shaw remembers to get off of her. 

“Sorry,” she mutters. She crawls back until she’s sitting up by Root’s knees. She keeps her hands close to her chest and avoids looking at Root’s face. 

“Shaw,” Root croaks as she wriggles to sit up. She sounds calm and not all that dazed. She flicks on the light on the night stand and leans over to Shaw. She carefully reaches for her hand while trying to get her to look her in the eyes. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“No,” Shaw says. She pulls her hands back farther and starts to turn to get off the bed. “I need-” The rest of the sentence gets stuck in her throat . She shuffles towards the bathroom before Root says anything else. 

She locks the door behind her. Her hand is behind her ear before she has found the light switch. She looks in the mirror even though she knows all she will find is smooth skin, but it still doesn’t make sense. 

For the past week, Shaw had been pretty sure it was over now. She was far away from Samaritan’s facility, she was free, and this time, things all felt different than they had in the simulations. The outside air felt different on her skin, colors were brighter than she remembered them, and the city had a funny smell when she returned a couple of days ago. She wasn’t sure she ever smelled it before. Everything was a lot more detailed and lively out in the real world. And as long as nothing happened the way it did in the simulations, Shaw had a pretty strong grip on reality.

But then Root showed up.

Root’s touches felt more intense last night than they had in the past ten months. There were little details in Root’s face that Shaw didn’t remember seeing before. She sounded and moved differently, seemed to watch her words and actions better than she did in the simulations. Everything about her was a little more like the Root she knew before the elevator, the screams, the gunshot wounds and the simulations, the ten months that felt more like ten years. 

But it wouldn’t be the first time they renewed the course of the simulations. Things changed all the time if she didn’t lead them to what they wanted to find. Her escape had felt too easy, it was suspicious from the start. Maybe this was all just another setup.

Shaw sits down on the edge of the bathtub to think. If Root isn’t real then why does she feel so different, so much more real? She’s not pushy in any way, she’s not asking for anything, she’s being careful and sweet, but she still has that grin on her face between those soft and longing looks. She’s not really the same Root as Shaw remembers, but she’s more like how she expected her to be after all this time. 

A rush of panic floods through Shaw’s chest. What if they got her? What if they found Root, took her, and got to know her well enough to copy her behavior into the simulations? 

“Shaw,” Root says from the other side of the door. Shaw’s breathing picks up again. “Can you at least unlock the door, please?”

If this is real, then Root just witnessed Shaw holding a gun to her own head, threatening to pull the trigger. She probably isn’t too fond of the idea of Shaw locking herself up in the bathroom after a mild midnight freak out. Shaw gets up and waits at the door with one hand on the door knob and the other on the lock. She feels her bottom lip trembling and her eyes burn slightly.

“Root?” Barely any sound comes out, but it’s enough.

“I’m here,” Root says. Shaw shakes her head before resting her forehead on the cold wood of the door. She turns the lock, but doesn’t open up. 

“Tell me something,” she asks.

“What do you want me to tell you?”

“Anything.” Shaw’s voice breaks while she talks. “From when I was gone.”

“Okay,” Root says. Her voice is so close Shaw suspects Root is leaning against the other side of the door. She puts her hand flat against it and imagines Root doing the same. It takes a moment before she hears her voice again. 

“We went to a wedding,” Root says, and then pauses. Shaw’s lip is shaking too much, and she doesn’t want to risk her voice breaking again if she speaks, so she just waits for Root to continue. “A few weeks ago. It was at this big estate with horses and everything. Very posh. We got the number of the marriage license. Well, Harold did. I wasn’t exactly invited. But I got myself in.” 

Shaw cracks a little smile. Of course she did. 

“It was a beautiful ceremony. Harry sang in front of everyone.” She pauses there, probably waiting for Shaw to respond to that. But Shaw just furrows her brow and tries to picture it. It’s not coming easily. “Anyway, in the end it turned out it was the photographer who was in danger, something about horse race corruption. Lucky for her I was just in time to save the day. On a horse.” She adds after a beat. She’s clearly quite proud of that bit.

“What?” Shaw mumbles. Finch singing for a crowd and Root saving ladies, on a horse. This makes absolutely no sense.

“It was the fastest mode of transportation I had nearby at the moment,” Root says. 

“You know how to ride a horse?” Shaw asks, still astounded. 

“I’m from Texas, Shaw.” 

Shaw huffs a laugh and lifts her hand to wipe at her wet cheeks. 

“Tell me more,” she says softly, feeling a bit calmer now. Root’s voice soothes her worries and the things she says are an anchor. Little clues that might lead her back to the truth.

“There was a reception afterwards. Harry and I danced.”

“You danced?” Shaw scoffs. She tries to imagine them.

“Yeah. It would have been kinda romantic. You know, if Harold had been a certain short, Persian woman.” Root’s voice is soft and low. Shaw blinks at the tone and the words. She moves her hand a little farther up the door. Root sighs audibly. “God I missed you so bad that day.”

Root wanted to dance with her. She can suddenly picture it clearly, her arms around Root’s neck, Root’s around her waist. She can practically feel the warmth of Root’s hand on her back and it sends a shiver through her gut. She wonders if Root felt like this that day, craving Shaw’s touch, her warmth and her smile, her heart pulling at her chest like it would combust if she didn’t feel the touch of her lips on her own soon.

But Root had had an ocean between them that day, and Shaw only has a single door.

She steps back and opens the door carefully. Root is indeed leaning against it, but she pushes herself back and stands in the doorway with her arms crossed. She visibly heaves a sigh when she sees Shaw. 

“I’m not that short,” Shaw says, before stepping in and reaching her hands behind Root’s neck. She pulls her down and presses their lips together before Root can say anything. For a moment she seems a little stunned, but then she smiles softly and puts her hands on Shaw’s back. 

Root pulls Shaw’s upper lip between her own before she lets go. “You are kinda short, though,” she hums. She places a soft kiss on Shaw’s forehead. 

“I can’t help it that you’re just stupid tall,” Shaw says. She pulls her head away from Root’s warm lips in favor of pressing her nose against the spot behind Root’s jaw. She stands up on her toes slightly to slide her arms up Root’s shoulders and grab her own elbow behind Root. 

Root’s grip around her waist tightens, and the space between their bodies closes. Root rests her cheek against Shaw’s hair and strokes her thumb over her spine. 

They’re hugging for the second time in under twelve hours, which is one more time than Shaw has hugged anyone who wasn’t her mother in her whole life. She doesn’t feel cramped or uncomfortable, like she always imagines hugs will feel. Root’s body feels light around hers, but Shaw knows the force that hides behind her soft demeanor, and the warmth of her feels like a protective shield, keeping her safe. 

They stand like this for a few minutes, taking up each other’s scent and touch, until Shaw almost falls asleep in Root’s arms and Root suggests they take it back to the bed. 

Shaw lies on her back with Root’s arm draped over her stomach for a while, fighting to keep her eyes open while the sunlight slowly starts filling the room. She doesn’t think Root notices what she’s doing, but then she mumbles, “Just go to sleep, Sameen.”

Shaw turns her head to look at her. She wants to lie and say she can’t sleep anymore, that she’s not tired anymore, but she doubts her eyes wouldn’t give her away.

“I’ll keep watch,” Root says. “Wake you up if you have a bad dream. Okay?”

Shaw swallows. It doesn’t seem fair for Root to give up her sleep to keep Shaw from having these nightmares, especially because she probably wouldn’t be able to wake her up in time to stop her from getting all her facts mixed up again. But Root seems willing, and Shaw trusts her enough to at least try it. 

“Okay,” she whispers. She scoots a little closer to Root and finally lets her eyes close. As Root caresses her face, she drifts off almost immediately. 

 

She wakes up from a dreamless sleep when the sun is shining harshly into the room. She doesn’t open her eyes, knowing the brightness will hurt her eyes. She groans, and her arm brushes against Root’s when she lifts it to cover them. 

“Good morning,” Root says. Shaw moves her arm up again to look at her. The light is overwhelming, but she can see Root perfectly, propped up on her elbow with her head resting on her hand, smiling like an idiot. 

“Root,” Shaw says. It comes out slightly surprised. 

“Sleep well?”

“Hm-mm,” Shaw hums. Root lets her fingers slide over her tensed abs while she stretches the sleep out of her body. She rolls onto her side when she’s done and faces Root. “M-time is it?”

“10:47,” Root clarifies. “You look even better in the daylight.” She strokes a strand of hair out of Shaw’s face and Shaw smiles lazily. “Harry called earlier. I hope you don’t mind I told him you’re back.”

“What did he say?” Shaw says, looking up at Root. 

“He was glad to hear it. I didn’t tell him much else, but he’s giving us a day off.”

“That’s nice of him,” Shaw says. Then she just looks at Root. She doesn’t look disheveled with sleep, as she has been awake for 5 hours, but there’s something about the way she lies here that strikes a little odd to Shaw. The morning glow in the room makes her hair and eyes shine. For some reason Shaw’s stomach flutters at the sight of her.

“You were never here,” Shaw says out of the blue. 

“What?” Root asks, looking confused.

“In the simulations. You were never there when I woke up. You were in the room sometimes, but you were never still in bed with me.”

“Wait.” Root pauses and her eyes start to twinkle. “We slept together?”

Shaw rolls her eyes away and scoffs. She hasn’t told Root anything about the simulations except that she was meant to kill her in them. A sleepover of any kind was probably the last thing Root had on her mind when she envisioned them. Shaw can’t hold back the smile that creeps onto her face though.

“Every simulation?” The grin on Root’s face grows wider every second Shaw stays quiet.

“Not all of them,” Shaw grumbles. She looks back at Root and returns a smirk.

“Was it good?” Root asks. Her voice is teasing and it gives Shaw a sense of familiarity that makes her feel warm.

“Didn’t suck,” Shaw says. She snorts at the look on Root’s face when she wriggles her eyebrows. 

“What did we do?” 

Shaw sighs and shakes her head in fake annoyance, and then leans up to cover Root’s mouth with her own. 

“Hmm,” Root hums, and she pulls away just a little to say, “Are you demonstrating?”

“I’m shutting you up.” 

It proves to be a very effective method. Soon enough their hands are all over each other again and Shaw thinks of how nice it is to wake up like this. She normally never used to stay in bed after 8, but nothing is normal right now, and it’s not like they have anywhere to be later. It’s just her and Root, alone in an apartment. Even if it’s just for a day, it’s longer than a simulation could ever give her. 

Root pulls away when Shaw’s stomach starts grumbling audibly. Shaw tries to chase her lips, but Root holds her down by her shoulder. 

“What do you want for breakfast?” she asks. 

Shaw smirks in reply. She’s pretty sure it was just a normal question, but coming from Root anything sounds like an innuendo. She doesn’t say anything, but instead lets her fingers wander over to the front of Root’s shorts. She lets them rest just under the waistband and waits for Root to respond to the mischievous look on her face.

“Not yet,” Root says. She wriggles backwards a little. Shaw pulls her hand back immediately. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Actually, it’s amazing,” Root says. She puts her hand back on Shaw’s face as if to prove a point. “But let’s just take it slow for now. Okay?”

“Okay.” Shaw thinks about Root’s tears last night and how… intense they both had been. Even for Shaw, who has been with Root in simulations almost every day for ten months, it was a lot. If anything, Root has only so much as dreamed about her in the mean time, and if Shaw has learned anything about what it’s like to miss somebody, Root has felt that ten times harder in her absence. No matter how they continue the burning fire and flames they had before all of this, they’re gonna have to ease into it slowly if they don’t want it to explode. 

“I could do pancakes,” Shaw says after a moment of staring into Root’s eyes. She leans over to kiss her and then turns to get out of the bed. She hears Root sigh. She looks over her shoulder and catches her smiling up at her as she brushes the tips of her fingers against her own lips. It occurs to Shaw that maybe this is more surreal to Root than it is to her. 

Root goes back to the deli across the street alone to buy eggs and flour. Shaw’s pretty sure her attempt to casually express she’d rather not go outside came out a bit too blatant and Root seems a little upset to leave her here alone. But Shaw assures her she will be fine on her own for five minutes. She spent the entire past week on her own, escaped her captors, travelled across the ocean and the southern border and she made it back home in one piece. It didn’t seem to convince Root completely, but they didn’t have much of a choice either way.

They’re both excessively relieved when Root opens the door with a paper bag under her arm. Shaw has made two mugs of hot chocolate while she was gone and Root thankfully grips one to warm her hands on after she takes off her coat. 

They don’t have much to work with when it comes to kitchen utensils, but Shaw insists she’ll get the batter mixed using a single fork, and Root doesn’t object to sitting at the counter and watching Shaw’s arm do all the hard work. Shaw doesn’t ignore the way she grins and wriggles her eyebrows at the sight, but instead intensifies her movements, making Root laugh.

It’s a good laugh. It’s somewhere between a giggle and a shriek and it loosens some of the cold tension that seeped into Shaw’s chest the day she gave up trying to fight Samaritan’s hold on her brain, her mind and everything that made her Shaw. 

Root melts the butter while Shaw prepares to pour the batter into the pan. There are some small lumps of flour left floating on top, but it can’t turn out much worse than the pancakes she had devoured when she arrived in Altamira earlier this week. She hadn’t had pancakes in so long that she wouldn’t have complained about them in that moment, but she was sure she remembered the pancakes from Flagship diner to be a lot tastier. 

They stand next to each other while the first pancake bakes, with their bare arms touching. Shaw feels Root’s eyes on her with almost no interruption. She vaguely remembers a time when this would have pissed her off to the point where she would have punched Root in the face, but right now it feels like a reassurance. Root is looking out for her, and after ten months of fighting everything on her own, an extra set of eyes to watch her back are more of a relief than anything.

Shaw lets out a couple of moans when she gets her first fork full of pancakes into her mouth. She might be biased from the severe lack of pancakes for almost a year, but these are damn near the best ones she’s ever tasted. Root smiles but she doesn’t say anything as she cuts into her own in a more civilized manner. 

Root has the machine put on some soft background music while they eat, so the silence doesn’t get too eerie. Shaw suspects Root probably wants to talk about stuff, but she’s not sure she would actually want to hear the whole truth. At least not today, while they can pretend nothing is wrong and they can be safe again. Shaw tries to imagine how she would feel if they had done what they did to her to Root instead. She gets pissed off before she even finishes thinking it out and figures that is not something Root wants to feel right now. 

She looks at her when she swallows her last bite of pancakes. She blinks a couple of times and feels her jaw drop slightly at the sight of her, sitting so straight up and chewing her food so… elegantly somehow. Nothing about her graceful demeanor ever seems to falter, not even in the morning when she has barely slept in hours. 

“That good, huh?” Root asks. Shaw is already nodding slowly before she fully realizes Root is referring to the pancakes. 

They postpone the dishes to some point later that day and settle on the couch while Shaw flicks the tv on. She puts on a show on Animal Planet ranking animals based on their cuteness. 

They both sit comfortably, close to each other but barely touching, until they’re ten minutes into the show and Root finally catches Shaw’s eyes. Root spreads her legs slightly, patting the cushion between her knees. Shaw hesitates for a moment, but then she remembers the warmth of Root’s soft skin and she scoots over, settling between Root’s legs and leaning her back against Root’s chest. Root lays her arm over her shoulder, her fingers scratching gently against Shaw’s abs over her shirt.

There’s a weird flutter in Shaw’s stomach when Root kisses the top of her head. She nestles her head farther into Root’s neck.

“Oh that’s bullshit,” she grumbles at the tv. “The fox was way cuter than that boring ass bird.”

“So was the bat though,” Root comments. 

Shaw subtly lets her hand drop down by Root’s on her stomach. Root catches the hint, or she just makes the move by herself and casually holds her hand, stroking her thumb across the back of it.

“You know who would make this even better?” Root asks in a soft tone.

“Bear,” Shaw answers without missing a beat. 

“Yeah,” Root says. Shaw can hear the smile in her voice. 

They keep watching the show and discussing the miss-ranked animals until the show is over and the next one starts. The rest of the day is wasted away with nature documentaries and soft touches on the couch. Shaw knows Root is probably getting updates on the war outside filed into her ear continuously, but as long as she doesn’t say anything about it, Shaw is fine with pretending this is her life for now. Just her and Root on a couch, staring at nature and wildlife in places far away from the city. Just for today, she figures both of them have deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks yet again to [Emilia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/youmeandem)
> 
> Title from Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift ft. The Civil Wars
> 
> Please kudos and comment anything pls I'm thirsty for feedback


	6. Melt This Heart Of Iron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made a bit of a promise in the Christmas chapter. I'm a bit late but lbr it's never too late for Shoot in bikinis. Lots of beach fluff basically.

Shaw wakes up from an unfamiliar sound, too close to her head for her likings. She reaches out to the bedside table, fumbling for her gun. It’s not there. Neither is the bedside table itself.

She opens her eyes, slightly panicked. It’s too bright for her to see anything at first. When her eyes have adjusted enough she looks around the small room made up of wood and open space , with little white curtains moving gently in the wind. She can hear a quiet rumbling noise outside, and it takes her a moment to identify the sound as ocean waves. The realization that she’s naked strikes over her next.

She hears the sound that awoke her again. She damn near lets out a loud squeak herself when she sees the large green bird sitting on a piece of wood that’s sticking out from under the ceiling, staring back at her with its head tilted.

“What the fuck,” Shaw mumbles. She pushes herself up to her elbow to look over her shoulder.

Root is lying peacefully with her good ear pressed against the pillow. Her wild morning hair covers most of her face and her legs are sprawled out from under the sheets. Shaw stares at her for a moment, until another high pitched squawk from the ceiling shakes her annoyance back in action.

“Oh shut up,” she says. She throws the sheets off herself and gets up. She stands up on her toes to swat at the bird , but pauses in the middle of her movements to get a good look at it.

“You’re actually kinda pretty,” she observes. She looks back at Root in the bed and wonders whether she would appreciate the bird’s beauty or tell her to get it the fuck out of the hut before it shits on their stuff. She takes her phone from the top of her suitcase, ignores the messages from Lionel, and tells the bird to stay put while she takes a picture. Then she opens the curtain and continues swatting until it flies off into the bright morning sun.

Shaw can’t believe she actually sighs upon the sight of the beach. It’s all palm trees and yellow sand, blue greenish water and more damn pretty birds. It looks like a preset desktop image on a new laptop.

She checks the time on her phone. It’s pretty early, but she handles jet lag alright, and she figures Root probably does too, so she starts looking for the menu of the resort’s restaurant.

It’s kind of ridiculous how much of a mess they have made in the one night they have stayed here. The clothes they had worn on the plane are scattered all over the place and pretty much all of the standard decorations that came with the hut have been replaced to the floor. Shaw grins at the memory of pushing and getting pushed against each instable wall while violently making out, making the whole hut shudder.

After Shaw has ordered breakfast to their hut, she checks the messages Lionel sent her, and they’re all pictures of Bear and Rose, turning his living room and garden into their own type of mess. Shaw grins at that too. She wonders if she should feel bad for him, but honestly he should feel honored that she would let him babysit the two things closest to her heart for a week. Well, second closest things.

She puts on a pair of loose boxers and one of her old marines shirts that Root somehow managed to get a hold of after she was captured. She sits with her back against the headboard of the bed while she waits for breakfast to arrive. She’s hungrier than she usually is after just waking up, the time difference and the workout she had last night probably playing a part in that.

She reaches out to brush Root’s wild hair out of her sleeping face. Her fingers trace over the side of her head, Root hums quietly and nuzzles into the light touch as Shaw whispers, “Sobhe shoma bekheir, khoshgele man.”

She leans over to pull the sheets back over Root’s exposed limbs when there’s a knock on the door.

She feels the nagging sense of danger in the back of her mind, pulling her to the guns in the hidden compartment of her suitcase. It could be anyone at the door, the little voice tells her. It could be Samaritan operatives, ready to take her back. But she has been fighting off these thoughts lately, and the more often her rational side gets proven right, the more confident Shaw becomes about her grip on reality. So she chooses to ignore the voices, and makes her way over to the door.

Still, she opens up carefully, getting ready to fight if necessary. And it’s just the resort’s delivery guy with breakfast. She gratefully takes the heavy lidded tray from the his hands.

She thanks him and kicks the door shut with her foot, maneuvers through the mess on the floor and then sets the tray down on the foot end of the bed. She crawls towards Root and softly pokes her nose with a finger. It doesn’t trigger much of a reaction.

She clumsily leans over a bit more and presses a soft kiss to Root’s lips. She continues a trail of kisses over her jaw, nudging to turn her head enough to get her ear off the pillow. “Root,” she says softly.

Root hums again and her lips graze against Shaw’s cheek. Shaw comes back up to kiss her lips, and Root smiles.

“Hey,” Shaw says, waiting for Root to open her eyes while she hovers above her.

“Hi,” Root says when she does. She moves up her hand to touch her wherever she can get her hand on first, which happens to be her shoulder. She pulls her down for another kiss and moves her hand down to grope Shaw’s boobs for a moment, before sliding it back up to hold her by the back of her neck.

“Breakfast is served,” Shaw announces when she pulls back a little.

Root leans up to look at the tray at the end of the bed. “What a fantastic way to wake up.”

“Definitely beats getting screamed awake by a dumbass bird that got itself trapped inside,” Shaw mutters. She waits until Root shuffles upwards so she can put the tray in her lap.

“There was a bird in the hut?”

“Yeah. Pretty big one, too,” Shaw clarifies. She takes the lid off and feels her mouth start to water as the smell of the extra big pile of pancakes hits her. She moans at the sight of them.

Root looks at her with big eyes and a smile.

“What?” Shaw asks defensively.

“It’s been months since you got back,” Root starts. When she pauses, Shaw expects something serious and emotional to follow, but then she continues, “and I’m still surprised every morning with how much food you can get inside that tiny body of yours.”

Shaw raises her eyebrows and sits back a little, extending her right arm and flexing to show off her muscles. “Who are you calling tiny?”

Root is staring, biting on her lip and not at all bothered to answer that question – if she even heard it. Shaw doesn’t wait until the hazy expression falls off Root’s face before she starts attacking the pile of pancakes.

Root idly starts on the bowl of fresh exotic fruits Shaw ordered for her. Neither of them says anything until Shaw finishes her pancakes and Root feeds her some of her coconut and papaya pieces.

“So what do you wanna do today?” Shaw asks.

“Absolutely nothing,” Root says. “Except seeing you in a bikini. And maybe help you out of it later.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Shaw smirks and starts searching for her bikini.

 

Shaw was never one for long romantic walks on the beach, and they don’t wanna stray too far anyway, not willing to risk running into any other vacationers. So they stick to the little patch of beach by their hut.

“Fucking sand,” Shaw huffs in annoyance when she is smearing sunscreen on Root’s back. She’s seated on top of Root’s ass with her knees on either side. Root just hums in reply, clearly enjoying this too much to give a fuck about a bit of sand sticking to her skin.

Shaw unclasps Root’s blue bikini top to spread out the oil. Shaw’s whole body moves with her arms and pretty soon the whole thing just turns into a massage. Why the hell not, Shaw figures. They’re here to relax after all. Her hands glide over Root’s arms, neck and shoulders, and Shaw has to laugh a little bit at the pleasured sounds it pulls out of Root. She leans forward to press a kiss against a dry part of Root’s neck, just under her hairline. Then she fastens Root’s top again and rolls back over to her own towel and Root whines at the abrupt ending of her massage.

“Want me to do you?” Root asks, flopping her arm over Shaw’s stomach.

“You already done enjoying the bikini show?” Shaw says, nodding down at her expensive yellow bikini as if she’s offended. She had bought it especially for this occasion – of course she had, she’ll kill anyone else if they see her in this tacky ass assembly of bright fabric. The machine had helped her consider Root’s preferences, and Shaw had been doubtful if she had been right until she had put it on this morning and saw the darkly pleased look in Root’s eyes when she came out of the bathroom. 96.7% accuracy indeed.

“No way,” Root hums, looking up through her lashes to protect her eyes from the sun. She slides her hand over Shaw’s abs up to the bikini top. Hooking her finger under the fabric between Shaw’s boobs, she pulls it down a little and adds, “I’m actually gonna be really sad to see this go off later. You might have to keep them on for a bit. But seriously don’t you need sunscreen?”

“I don’t do sunburns,” Shaw declares . Root smiles.

They lie in peaceful silence for a while, enjoying the heat of the sun on their bare skins with the warm breeze quietly gushing over them like soft blanket.

They’re not exactly used to this. Not one part of it is familiar to them. They usually spend their time inside gloomy apartments, and whenever they go outside it’s with big coats and shivering spines, and the dark New York winters last so long that it gets hard to remember it can be very pleasant outside on different places on the earth.

They’re used to loud noises, busy streets and people everywhere. And here they are, surrounded by no sound but the ocean and the birds, and an occasional cricket or frog. The nearest people are the ones in their neighboring huts, which are far enough away to not have to meet anyone, and since it’s Valentine’s week, Shaw figures nobody came to this elite paradise resort to make friends.

Root’s fingers are scratching gently over Shaw’s chest. Shaw has almost dozed off when Root’s voice breaks the quiet.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“What?” Shaw mutters, a little dazed with almost-sleep.

“Have you ever been on a romantic getaway to paradise before?” Root is propped up on her elbow and looking at Shaw with interest.

“Does it count if it went by myself?”

“If you enjoyed yourself,” Root says with a low voice and a grin. Her fingers tickle down Shaw’s abs and stop to draw circles just above the fabric of her bikini bottoms.

“I did,” Shaw smirks. Root let out a satisfactory hum and lets her hand trail down a bit further. She gently cups Shaw over her bikini and adds a little pressure as she slides back up.

“Nuh uh.” Shaw grabs Root’s wrist. “I told you, no sex on the literal beach.”

“Sweetie,” Root starts, “We both know it’s gonna happen at some point this week.”

“I’d like to avoid getting sand up in my butt crack for as long as I can.” She turns Root’s wrist over in her hand and tangles their fingers together.

“We’ll see how long you can resist,” Root says, and she leans over to kiss Shaw. Shaw just sighs, but she smiles when she kisses her back.

“How about you?” Shaw asks softly when Root leans back up.

“Have I ever been to a romantic beach resort before?” she asks. Shaw nods. “No.”

They’re this close to touching a subject they’ve never really discussed before. Not with each other, and probably not with anyone else either. Shaw has been curious about Root’s previous love affairs, but she didn’t want to get into it too deep and overstep boundaries. She didn’t even know if she ever wanted to tell Root about her own dating history. But right now, in this moment, there is nothing in the world for them to worry about but each other. They have time and each other’s full attention, and Shaw no longer thinks there is anything she could say that would break the deal for Root.

It’s Root that dives straight into the next question.

“What’s the longest you’ve ever been with anyone?”

Shaw smiles upon the realization that Root just went through the exact same train of thoughts as her.

“Define ‘been with’,” she says, trying not to look too smug.

“Fucking, sleeping over, having dinner together, over an extended period of time,” Root lists.

“Four years.”

“Wow,” Root says, raising her eyebrows a little. “That’s pretty impressive.”

“Nah, it wasn’t exactly a fairy tale.” Root tilts her head and patiently waits for Shaw to follow up on that. “It was back in the marines. Started out pretty great. He was cool and just easy to hang with. Things were pretty simple for the most part. Then he got a bit too serious and… I chickened out.”

“What happened?” Root asks. She has her hand on Shaw’s neck and brushes her thumb against her tendons. She looks a lot more relaxed than Shaw expected she would upon telling her about this.

“I guess I sort of cheated on him?”

“You guess?”

“I don’t know, it was-” She pauses to think. She doesn’t want Root to think it was like that, but she also reckons it kind of was like that. But it was confusing for her at the time and it still is, if she has to define what happened. “It was complicated. He was fine with me sleeping with other women.” Root rolls her eyes at that. Shaw can actually see her bite back a comment to let her finish. “At some point the lines became kinda blurry to me. He got mad about it, but I just didn’t understand what he wanted from me anymore.”

“And then what?” Root asks.

“I suggested we should break it off, but he wanted to fix it. It was way too much of a hassle to me. I just didn’t think it was worth it anymore. Finally I just kinda told him to save himself, find someone who actually was whatever he wanted me to be.” Shaw bites her lip and looks somewhere between Root’s neck and her chest. “He died a week later.”

Root’s eyes widen. “What?”

“It was a dumb accident during a training exercise. He didn’t even go down fighting or anything. Just stupid fate.” The expression on Root’s face has changed completely now. She looks a little upset.

Shaw has never really understood that. She knew it was the kind thing to have respect for the dead, because they weren’t around to defend themselves and all that, but if you didn’t know or like someone before they died, why bother pretending you did after? Not that Root seems overly sad about it now, but Shaw doesn’t understand how it changes anything. He was in the past before, and he still is now.

“What was his name?” Root asks.

“Travis.” Sometimes she thinks the name should spark something inside her, but it never does.

“Was he hot?”

“You think I’d stick around that long with a mediocre looking dude? Hell yeah he was hot.” Shaw smirks.

“Was he double wielding guns, hood and zip ties, four alarm fire type of hot?”

“Oh don’t worry,” Shaw says. “He was nowhere near as hot as the iron on the day we met.”

Root grins and leans over. “Good.” She catches Shaw’s lips in a wet kiss.

“What was your longest?” Shaw asks.

“Uh,” Root says, looking away in thought. “A couple of months? Or about a year and a half, maybe? It’s kind of hard to pinpoint.”

“Why?” Shaw asks, trying to figure out what the puzzled look on her face means.

“She got captured by an evil ASI right when things were starting to hit off.” The smile on Root’s face is soft, and the hand cupping Shaw’s cheek is even softer, but Shaw laughs.

“Aah, I see how that complicates things,” she says, still grinning. “How did that work out for the two of you?”

“Pretty good actually,” Root says. “I tricked her into living with me and taking me on beach vacations.”

“Ooh, what type of dog did you have to buy her to achieve that?”

“A pitbull,” Root smirks. And when Shaw pushes her on her back and slings her leg over hers, she actually fucking giggles. Shaw wonders when the hell they turned into this obnoxious cliché. She also wonders why the hell she is enjoying it so much, as she sucks a hickey on Root’s neck and listens to her humming in response.

She leans up to look at the result and grins with satisfaction at the deep red beginning bruise on Root’s light skin. She trails kisses down to Root’s collarbone to make another one, but she’s quickly put off when she feels sand between her tongue and the hot skin.

She shoots up and starts attempting to blow the sand out of her mouth, and then just spits it out unceremoniously next to the towel.

“I’m beginning to see how this might not work out in the end,” Root says, her hand covering her mouth to hide what Shaw just knows is the most grossly affectionate grin.

“I told you!” Shaw says. “Fucking sand!” She wipes her mouth on her hand, and then her arm, but it only results in more sand brushing off on her face. She grunts in frustration.

“It’s amazing how you can eat your pancakes with half a gallon of syrup dripping off your chin but one grain of sand sets you off,” Root says while she pushes herself off her towel to sit up, which is hard, with Shaw still straddling her lap. She rubs her hands together so the sand falls off.

“I don’t eat my pancakes like that,” Shaw says, a little confused, when Root starts to wipe at her face with her relatively clean hands. Their faces are so close, all Root would have to do to kiss her is lift her chin a little. But instead she looks up through her lashes and keeps her lips just half a breath away from Shaw’s.

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about your pancakes.” The grin that follows that one is absolutely the most obnoxious one Shaw has ever seen. It’s impressive, even for Root.

“You are the filthiest person I know,” Shaw says, leaning away from her face in case it’s contagious.

“I take pride in that.”

Shaw rolls her eyes and puts her arms over Root’s shoulder. Two can play this game.

She makes sure to roll her hips just so that her pubic bone grazes against Root’s while she pulls her close, leaning her head down to nibble at her ear. Root folds one arm around Shaw’s waist and uses the other to keep herself steady while she excitedly starts moving into Shaw.

“I know something that would make you real _wet_ ,” Shaw husks into her ear. Root heaves out a quivering breath against Shaw’s neck.

“Oh yeah?” she croaks.

“Hmm hm,” Shaw hums while biting Root’s earlobe, which sparks a little moan from Root’s throat.

“What is it?” Root asks curiously, with her hand holding on tight to Shaw’s back.

Shaw almost can’t believe how easy this is. She sits back up, putting her hands on Root’s shoulders, looking down at her with a mean smirk. “Let’s go for a swim.”

Root actually has to swallow her excitement away before she can sigh at Shaw in disappointment. “I hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Shaw declares, giving Root two friendly slaps on her shoulder before getting up and pulling Root up by her wrist, leading her towards the ocean. Root tries to object, but once Shaw is into the water up to her chest, she hesitantly starts to follow her.

 

Root tastes like salt more than usual, even after their 30 minute shower, during which Root took her sweet time paying Shaw back for the tease fest earlier. Shaw was fine with that for the most part, as long as she made sure to finish her off inside the hut, where no evil sand could come between them.

Root comes shuddering into the mattress and screaming a string of expletives, squeezing Shaw’s hair so hard she’s scared she might pull it out. The combination of the sounds she’s pulling from Root and the pain on her scalp makes her cross her legs, desperate for something to push against.

Luckily, Root doesn’t take too long to recover and manages to turn Shaw on her back immediately after she has wiped off her chin and crawled on top of her. Shaw is way too worked up to resist and just lets Root have her.

She makes sure to jam her nails deep into the skin of Root’s ass before she comes, so she can pull them up her back hard enough to draw blood and make Root moan in time with her. It also increases their chances of not being done with each other for another while.

 

When they’re finally sated and both splayed out across the mattress, catching their breaths, Shaw’s stomach audibly rumbles, and Root snickers.

“You wanna eat out or order in?” she asks.

“I’ve eaten out enough for today,” Shaw answers. Root laughs and grabs for Shaw’s hand. “No I actually kinda do wanna go out. Once I can walk again.”

“We have time. The kitchen doesn’t close until 10.”

“Oh my god let’s get super drunk tonight ,” Shaw says the instant she realizes there’s a bar in the restaurant.

“Ooh, I love that plan,” Root agrees.

 

They head to the restaurant in the fanciest outfits they brought with them. Shaw knows without looking around that they are by far the hottest couple there, and their little mission to make some heads turn succeeds the moment they walk through the doors. Root makes a show of holding Shaw’s chair out before she sits down. Shaw once walked out of a date when a guy did that for her, but right now she’s indulging, and at this point she’s pretty sure Root could make her do anything she used to think she’d never.

When the waiter comes around with the wine chart, Root pretends like she knows what she’s reading, and although she’s probably getting help from the machine, it doesn’t look like she’s gonna make a choice based off the information on the chart.

“I think I could go for a pinot noir,” Root says in the most pretentious tone she can manage. “How about you, darlin’?”

Shaw scoffs and shakes her head. “Just pick whatever you want, babe.” She bites her lip to hold back the grin that automatically creeps onto her face.

Root shrugs and looks back at the chart for a moment, until her head snaps back up.

“Did you just call me _babe_?”

Shaw swallows, confused with the surprised look on Root’s face.

She has been thinking about it for a while, how Root always has these pet names for her, and she always just calls Root Root. Most of the words Root uses are just too sweet for her to use, she just couldn’t imagine saying them comfortably. And it would be weird, because they’re Root’s words. But babe is a word Shaw can deal with. It’s sexy. It’s cool. Root is sexy. Shaw is cool. It just fits. But if Root doesn’t like it, she’ll just keep looking out for something else.

“Just testing the sound of it,” Shaw says with a shy smile.

“Did it test well?” Root says, and she starts grinning again, calming Shaw down a little.

“It did for me,” Shaw shrugs.

“Great. I love it.”

Root orders the pinot noir and when it arrives at their table Shaw holds up her glass. “Well, happy pre-Valentine’s day.” Root pouts a little through her smile until Shaw adds, “Babe.”

Root grins into her glass and winks. “Happy pre-Valentine’s day, sweetie .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again Em xx
> 
> I can't believe I just had to call Galentine's day "pre-Valentine's day"
> 
> The little bit of Farsi Shaw speaks basically just means "good morning, beautiful", tell me if I did it wrong though
> 
> Title from I'm Yours by Alessia Cara which was definitely written about them
> 
> Yall know where to find my twitter by now. Pls leave comments I will love you forever xxx


	7. Something In The Way You Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House hunting, inappropriate behavior, and maybe some foreshadowing? Who knows!

It’s been months since Samaritan’s defeat when Root tells Shaw they need to talk about their living situation. They’ve been in Shaw’s loft the whole time, and though it is spacious enough for all four of them, including the dogs, the lack of walls and color is driving Root insane.

She has tried to decorate the place a bit more; ordered a new dining set, hung some generic art on the wall, and put a constellation of bookcases around the dog beds in the corner to create some sense of privacy in the nonexistent bedroom. Shaw only complained about the more retro styling choices Root went for, like the purple carpet by the bed and the flowery sofa she wanted to put in front of Shaw’s new flat screen. Shaw had been so resentful of that last one that Root immediately instructed the delivery guys to take it back down and never mention the six foot long orange bean bag that was still waiting in the truck.

Living together is good, even though neither of them ever consciously made that decision. It just made sense for them to be to be in the same place at all times, and since Root didn’t even have a temporary home to begin with, Shaw’s place was pretty much the only way to go.

It works because they know each other well enough to know when it’s time to back off. Shaw takes the dogs out in the morning, Root in the afternoon, the one who needs fresh air most takes them in the evening, although they end up going together most of the time. Root doesn’t mind spending her time at home sitting still most of the time, but she has noticed Shaw doesn’t handle her lack of activity very well. It makes her cranky on the days she isn’t feeling too well to begin with, which mostly coincide with the days she doesn’t feel too confident going out into the street, in full sight of the city’s cameras. Root let her order some workout machines to put next to the dog corner, as her own personal home gym. She has been using them like crazy, and Root has found watching her work out is a huge distraction from her work resetting the machine.

It’s on one of those afternoons she’s attempting to multitask from the couch, glancing between the long lines of code and Shaw’s sweaty biceps from the couch, that she decides she’s had enough. The lighting in the loft is horrible in the living room corner, and with the dark rain clouds outside, her laptop screen is hurting her eyes every time she looks back on it.

“Sweetie?” Rose’s head perches up beside her at the sound of her voice. Root ruffles the fur between her ears and she settles back down, nuzzling her head into Root’s thigh.

“Hmm?” Shaw grunts. She’s pressing more than Root’s body weight and it’s delightful to look at.

“We need to talk.”

Shaw doesn’t pause her workout. But when she notices Root is waiting for her to do just that, she grunts, “Elaborate.”

“Well, as much as I enjoy waking up to a squealing puppy every morning, walking 16 and a half minutes to the nearest deli, watching you work out from the comfort of my very own couch office…” She loses track of her own sentence at that, absentmindedly licking her lips at the sight of Shaw in her running shorts and sports bra, her muscles toned and her skin glowing.

“Your point?” Shaw interrupts the daydream that’s starting to form in Root’s mind.

“Right. I don’t think I can stand to be in this place much longer.”

Shaw stops moving with the weight hovering high above her head. She carefully places it back onto its holder and shifts on her bench to sit up.

“Are you saying you wanna move out?” she pants quietly.

There’s something soft in her voice, curiosity bordering on worry, and her eyes are avoiding Root’s.

“Yeah,” Root says. The look on Shaw’s face surprises her. She didn’t think it would matter much to her where they lived. But there’s a little trace of terror in her eyes. Root can actually see her breathing picking up even more.

“But…” Shaw’s eyes fall on the puppy at Root’s side and then on Bear, who is lazily hanging out between Shaw’s work out equipment. “What about the dogs?”

“…They come with us,” Root says. How would the dogs compromise them moving out of this scruffy old loft?

Shaw’s eyebrows lift up and she scoffs slightly. “Oh.”

“Wait,” Root says, suddenly realizing why Shaw had looked so distressed. “Did you think I wanted to move out without you?”

“For a second there,” Shaw says, shrugging.

“Baby,” Root says, setting her laptop down on the coffee table and making her way over to Shaw, sitting with her shoulders hunched on the bench. She stands with her legs on either side of Shaw’s knees and cups her face in both hands. “That’s the last thing I want.”

She leans down and captures Shaw’s lips before she might feel pressured to respond to that. Shaw kisses back, but her breathing is still ragged from her workout and she can’t seem to put much passion behind it from this angle.

“So what do you want?” she asks as she pulls away from Root’s lips. Her own quirk up in a little smile.

“A house,” Root starts. “With rooms. And an actual bathtub that doesn’t double as a shower drain.”

Shaw looks up, frowning. “What’s wrong with my shower tub?”

“We deserve better, Sameen.”

Shaw rolls her eyes lightly and nudges her head against Root’s hand. Root sliders her fingers into Shaw’s hair, under the tie of her ponytail and scratches lightly.

“Anything you want, we can have it. A home cinema, indoor pool, triple garage. A helipad. You name it.”

Shaw smirks and bites her lip. “Where the hell is this hypothetical house of yours located, ‘cause I don’t think we’re gonna find anything like that in New York City.”

“Gotta dream big, sweetie.”

Shaw shrugs and reaches for her towel on the other end of the bench. Root steps back and watches her as she wipes her face on it before slinging it across her shoulders and padding towards the kitchen area to fetch herself some cold water.

“Well, I don’t care much for home cinemas and indoor pools. All I need is a bed and a kitchen. And a good couch. And a shower. I guess a bit of a garden would be nice for the dogs.” She throws back the bottle of water. Root watches her throat work it down and bites her lip.

“That’s a good start,” Root says. She gets her laptop from coffee table and brings it over to the kitchen counter. Rose clumsily jumps off the couch to follow her and Shaw kneels down to give the puppy some love.

“Maybe they need their own bedroom, if you’re gonna complain about their happy noises,” Shaw adds.

“I wasn’t complaining,” Root clarifies. “But it’s noted. Do you have a preference for a location?”

“Not really,” Shaw shrugs, while letting the puppy lick her face. “Anything but Staten Island is fine by me.”

“How do you feel about Upper West Side?”

“Positive. Is she listening?” Shaw asks, vaguely gesturing at her own ear, even though she knows Root’s implant has been machine-free for months now. But Root gets the hint, and that’s all that matters.

“Yep,” she says, looking down at her laptop screen. It’s flashing from lines of code to web pages faster than she can follow. “She’s already making a list.”

Root got her back in the air about two months ago, but it’s taking baby steps to teach her everything she needs to know to be the AI she was before. Root has been teaching her chess and all other kinds of games to test her predictability and strategizing tactics. By now she makes a decent chess component again, but, much to Shaw’s delight, she seems to have a preference for card games.

As far as tracking potential terrorist threats, she doesn’t quite know where to look and what to look for just yet, but Root is working on it – with a little help from Shaw’s general knowledge about terrorism prevention. Sometimes Root fears she might not be equipped for this, that there was a reason Harold was the one who made her in the first place, and that no one else could ever create something as impeccable as the original machine. But she is making progress every day, and Root is already busying her with small tasks to warm up her skills.

Like searching the internet for residences that fit all of her and Shaw’s desires.

With all of their demands considered, the machine narrows the results down to a top 10. She opens them on Root’s browser, each filed under a different tab, and Shaw gets up to join her at the counter, the two of them leaning over the laptop to look at the first house.

“Okay,” Shaw exclaims immediately. “Your personal assistant obviously still has a lot to learn about us.”

Root grins at the pictures of the posh apartment. It has black marble floors and pillars with golden details, stained glass checkered windows and an oak stairwell with what look like biblical figures carved beneath the railings. Three bathrooms, five bedrooms and a separate dining room. It has a terrace on the roof instead of a garden, but other than that, Root could see herself buying a place like that. She has a harder time imagining actually living there, but she would get used to it. However, it’s obviously not Shaw’s thing, so the closes the tab and moves on.

The second option is more their style, but it needs a lot of work and neither of them is excited about it enough to bother.

They work through the list, pointing out things they like and things they don’t. Shaw leans in closer and closer until her head is conveniently resting against Root’s shoulder and she snakes an arm around her waist. Root smiles and gets distracted from the laptop screen for a moment, until Shaw tells her to go to the next tab.

The seventh house has them both leaning in a little further. It’s a four story townhouse with big windows, a semi modern interior, classy parts of exposed brick wall, a big kitchen with a cooking island, and several spare rooms big enough for Shaw’s training equipment and Root’s hypothetical book collection.

They both turn their heads to each other with a smirk.

“Book a viewing?” Root asks.

“It’s 6 million, Root,” Shaw says.

“So?”

“You have a spare 6 million dollars lying around?”

“Sweetie,” Root says, in that sweet patronizing voice she hasn’t used on Shaw in what feels like ages. “There’s no need for you to worry about the price tags. I have my ways.”

“…Are these ‘ways’ you speak of legal, by any chance?”

“Lots of things aren’t legal, Sameen. I’m sure I can pull some strings somewhere.” Root smirks. The machine used to finance her every move and even though the new machine still has a lot to learn, she’s sure she can make it work again. She has access to lots of resources, after all.

Shaw sighs and lets the smirk creep back on her face. “Book a viewing.”

“Done,” Root says, without visibly doing anything on the laptop.

They book two more viewings, one in a similar townhouse that will need some work and one in a spacious modern apartment with a big roof terrace. It’s not the most ideal, but Root loves it too much not to at least take a look around. For inspirational purposes, she tells Shaw.

 

* * *

 

Root has a variation of games she likes to play whenever she’s met with people that are being paid to help her. She likes playing a below averagely intelligent trophy wife when she buys cars from fancy upstate dealerships, a suburban diva mom when she buys dresses from independent boutiques downtown, a sweet innocent tech support when she’s buying new technical equipment from greasy shop assistant boys who think they know more than her. Tricking people into firmly believing her blatant lies is a very entertaining way to spend time, and it was useful practice for her more serious undercover jobs.

She quickly finds out that – like many things – it’s even more fun when Shaw is with her. Making real estate agents as uncomfortable as possible by being the most obnoxious half of a rich, childless lesbian couple is so much better than having crusty white car salesmen hit on her.

She hardly warns Shaw before she lodges an arm firmly around her waist as the realtor opens the door of the first house they’re viewing. Shaw straightens her spine into her alert soldier mode briefly, and she tenses a little when Root introduces her as her wife, but she’s smiling when shakes the realtor’s hand. As soon as he turns around, however, she shoots Root a look that might have scared her three years ago, but doesn’t mean much to her these days. If anything it’s just endearing.

The realtor shows them the old fashioned kitchen first. It’s crammed into the front room of the house with ugly brown counters and green tiled walls. Root lets go of Shaw’s waist to make a show out of spreading her arms over the countertop.

“Not sure this is big enough,” she studies. Then she looks over her shoulder at Shaw, looking her up and down as if she’s measuring her and then looks back at the counter.

Shaw’s mouth is hanging open slightly when she turns back around. She’s looking at Root with half amazed, half scolding eyes. Root winks at her.

Shaw awkwardly scrapes her throat. “Next room, please,” she says to the realtor.

Root makes sure he sees when she reaches down to pinch Shaw’s butt. He blinks at the sight and then turns away quickly, leading them out of the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shaw hisses at Root when he’s far enough away.

“Play along, sweetie,” Root whispers into her ear. “The look on his face is worth it.”

Shaw glances at his back for a second and then smirks up at Root.

The living room is completely empty, aside from the big fireplace in the wall. It has big arched windows looking over the small garden.

“We should just get a bear skin rug in here,” Root says enthusiastically. “That’s about all the furniture we need for a good time, isn’t it honey?”

“Sure,” Shaw says, aiming her smile at the realtor, who is clearly having a hard time controlling the expressions on his face. She seems to be enjoying this too now.

When they’re in the garden, Root inspects the level of privacy they would have after getting rid of the outgrown plants, with the neighbor’s windows and balconies above them.

“Wouldn’t want a repeat of that leaked video situation of us in my office,” Root mumbles, loud and clear enough for both of her bystanders to hear.

Shaw replies with a slight head tilt and a smirk. The realtor scrapes his throat loudly and hurries back inside. They follow him up the stairs and Root can’t keep a smile off her face as she imagines how much the guy must be dreading showing them the master bedroom.

Between their jokes and banter they do consider the potential the house could have for them, and with just a few looks between them, they conclude that neither of them is looking forward to the renovation, no matter how perfect it could turn out. They’ll have another project on their hands for the next couple of months, and they still have more options left.

The next place they’re viewing is a bit closer to midtown, but farther from Central Park than the other two. The realtor at this place appears to be even more put off by their little play than the last one, especially now that Shaw has fully joined the game, talking about all the exercise she’ll have Root do in the building’s gym. Root awards her a proud smile for that.

The terrace has a beautiful view over the Hudson river, but Shaw has seen enough of it when she has inspected the railings and shakes her head at Root behind the realtor’s back. Not safe for dogs.

The interior is a little too cold for Root’s taste anyway. It doesn’t look as fancy as the pictures made it seem. The realtor looks beyond relieved when they tell her this place isn’t going to work for them.

When they get to the last house, Root takes an extra careful look down the street and up the front of the house. She has a good feeling about this one, and she can tell Shaw does too. She tries to imagine herself coming home to this place, walking the dogs down the street and greeting the neighbors. She hasn’t had a place like that since she was a teenager, and this seems like the perfect place to get it back.

They walk up the steps and hardly have time to prepare their new skit before the realtor opens up and welcomes them with a warm smile. She seems more excited than put off when Root snakes her arm tightly around Shaw’s waist.

They enter a white marble hallway with a subtle wooden staircase and modern stained glass sliding doors to the big living room. It’s still furnished from the current owners, and it looks almost like Root would have it. Spacious with the high ceilings, but still cozy and warm. There’s a fireplace in the brick wall and built in book cases. The room runs all the way to the back of the house, with the kitchen attached to living room area, only separated by a big dining table. There’s a lot of light from the windows to the garden, which is kept up perfectly with a small grass lawn and exotic flowers to the side. Root is so in awe that she forgets to do her countertop innuendo. This one is obviously big enough anyway.

The master bedroom is upstairs at the back of the house and it has a bathroom – with a bubble bath and a separate shower – and a walk in closet attached to it. There’s a little balcony looking over the garden, which Root is more than a little excited about. At the front of the house is a second, smaller bedroom, that’s obviously occupied by a child currently.

On the top floor is another kid’s bedroom at the front, with big windows and a small bathroom attached, perfect for Shaw’s home gym, judging by the little content smile on her face. At the back is a study, with old, hard wood book cases along the walls, and an actual ladder on wheels with a railing along the top shelf. It’s almost better than Harold’s old library, even if Root has no idea where to get enough books to fill up all the shelves.

The basement has a home cinema and a tool workshop, and Root is already planning ways to perfectly stash away all of their arsenal in there with big, metal cases with fingerprint scanners, like the ones in Shaw’s silly action movies.

When they get back to the kitchen, the realtor offers them a drink and sits them down at the counter.

“What do you think?” she asks, as she sets down their glasses of what seems like fresh pressed orange juice.

“It’s… good,” Root says, careful not to rush into anything before discussing it with Shaw.

“I’ll leave you two for a moment to think it over. But there’s a lot of perks to this house that you won’t find anywhere else in this neighborhood, at least not in your price range. And I don’t mean to rush you, but we’ve had a lot of calls for this place over the last few days. I would hate for you guys to miss such a perfect opportunity. There’s enough space to consider expanding the family,” she says, with a smile that is suddenly too kind for Root’s liking. She swallows hard and feels her eyes widen, but the realtor just continues her blabbering without pausing. “The neighborhood is very friendly and diverse. It’s close to the park and some very good schools. Now I have to make a few calls to some clients, but I’ll meet you back here in ten?”

“Okay,” they say in unison. The realtor squeezes through the French garden doors and closes them behind her.

“Did she just-” Root starts. She turns to Shaw, with her eyes still wide. “…suggest we should have kids?”

“Wasn’t that what you were going for all day with your gross PDAs?” Shaw grins.

“I didn’t think anyone was gonna fall for it.”

“You got played right back, sister.” Shaw doesn’t seem all too put off with the realtor’s comment. She’s obviously more amused with Root’s reaction to it. “What do you think?”

“Kids?!” Root almost yells.

“No, the house, dummy.”

“Oh!” She picks up her glass of orange juice and takes a long sip. “Yeah, no, it’s perfect. Like I expected, but better.”

“It’s good, right?” Shaw says with a shy smile. She bites her bottom lip briefly. “What about the money? She made it sound like we have to say yes right now or we’ll lose it.”

“Of course that’s what she made it sound like. In fact only three others called for this house and two of them have nowhere near enough income to finance it. But I’m happy to inform you that our girl had a little breakthrough last night.” Root smirks.

“You did it?”

“Well, not yet, but if all goes well, I’ll have the money by tonight. If we decide to go through with it.”

Shaw looks around, biting her lip. It’s not really a question if they’re gonna go through with it. It’s perfect and they both know it. They’re gonna say yes and then Root will handle the rest, and then Shaw can start thinking about where to put her guns, and where to put the dog beds and what color to paint the bedroom walls.

Root follows Shaw’s gaze around the room. It seems a little surreal that this is going to be their shared space for who knows how long it’s gonna be. She looks back at Shaw and feels a rush of excitement. She can’t stop herself from leaning forward and grabbing Shaw’s face between her hands. Her lips are on Shaw’s before Shaw can fully grasp what’s going on, but she kisses her back without missing a beat.

“This is gonna be our place,” Root mumbles against her.

“Yeah,” Shaw whispers. “Pretty cool, huh.”

“You can finally use a fridge for food.”

“Oh my god, we should totally have a weapon room in the basement, right?” Shaw says when she leans back out of the kiss.

“That’s what I was thinking!”

“Great minds think alike.” Shaw smirks. “Are you and the machine gonna set up Harold’s old library system in the study?”

Root thinks for a second. It would be a nice homage to him. “Nah. No more deciphering of vague codes. I’m giving her free speech, no need for theatrics.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.” Shaw attempts to sound mean, but her smirk is giving her lightheartedness away. Root mockingly sticks out her tongue at her.

There’s a knock on the garden doors when the realtor wants back inside. They tell her the good news and she seems over the moon for them, although Root guesses she’s mostly just happy about the huge bonus she’s gonna get from selling a house at this price.

 

* * *

 

“Do you need a moment?” Root asks Shaw carefully when the movers carry the couch out of Shaw’s loft, leaving it empty aside from the kitchenette and the sink. She moves up behind Shaw where she’s standing by the window, staring out into the distance, and softly places her hands on her shoulders. 

“What for?” Shaw says abruptly, turning sideways to look at Root.

“I don’t know,” Root says. “Saying goodbye to the place you called home for years.”

“I had three pieces of furniture,” Shaw says skeptically. “Doesn’t mean a damn to me.”

Root hums, smiling into Shaw’s neck. Shaw leans into her touch and sighs. “I am gonna miss the view, though.”

Root looks up, resting her chin on Shaw’s shoulder. It is a good view. It’s been kind of dreary to look at in the past few months, with the white winter sky blurring all the buildings into a mass of grey melancholy, but now that the sun is shining and the sky is blue, it actually looks like the perfect post card.

“We’re gonna live right there,” Root says, pointing in the vague direction of uptown Manhattan.

“Yep,” Shaw says. Root can see her lips curling into a smile from the corner of her eyes. “So let’s go.” She wriggles herself free from Root’s arms and whistles. The dogs that were loyally laying at their feet jump up at the sound and follow Shaw to the door.

Root looks around once more. She still remembers the first time she was here, when she had picked the lock and woken Shaw up with the surprise of her brand new stun gun, although maybe that memory isn’t the best to reminisce.

The second time she was here, it had been to let Shaw fix her up after a gun fight with Vigilance. She remembers the concentrated look on Shaw’s face while she patched her up with her careful, soft hands. It was the first calm moment between them, the first time Shaw didn’t push her away or roll her eyes at her, and the first time Root did her best not to give her a reason to. She didn’t stay the night after Shaw was done tending to her wounds, though she was touched that Shaw had offered her the bed.

She remembers the countless times after that, eating takeout at the table after long missions and pushing each other to the bed as soon as their food containers were empty. Unraveling each other between the sheets, longer and more intense each time. Showering in turns, and later on, when Shaw didn’t kick her out after sex anymore, showering together in the mornings – to save time, if you asked Shaw.

She remembers the cold, rainy day over a year ago, weeks after Shaw had been taken, when, for the first time, she had come to the loft alone. She had been leaving some of her own stuff in Shaw’s drawers over the months they had been sleeping together. A couple of guns, a taser, some clothes, her spare glasses, her favorite scarf. She’d only come to pick up those things, but after she’d got herself in with the new key she’d had made just a month before, she couldn’t get herself to leave again for two whole days. She’d spent them lying around on Shaw’s bed, taking up her scent, hoping to sink away in her sheets. She could barely get herself to eat the leftovers from Shaw’s freezer and she didn’t shower until the machine told her she might have a lead. She used Shaw’s shampoo, so she would be able to smell her just a little longer, carry her with her in a small way. She also took some of Shaw’s shirts and tank tops, the KGB medal that was hanging from her night light, and some of her guns. Surely Shaw wouldn’t mind if she kept them safe for her, just until she would come back.

“You coming or what?” Shaw asks from the doorway. Root turns to look and lets out a little laugh when she sees Shaw and both of the dogs, all staring at her with their heads tilted sideways in question.

“Maybe I need a moment,” she mumbles softly after her laugh fades again.

“Need me here?” Shaw asks.

“No.” Staying another minute isn’t gonna change anything. She’s ready for new memories, better ones, and leave all of this behind. “Let’s just go.”

She walks towards Shaw and puts an arm around her shoulder. Shaw lets her and they walk out of the loft for the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again Em
> 
> Title from Stay by Rihanna sorry it's the worst pun
> 
> Plssss leave comments
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :)


	8. Out of The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw reconnects with her mother

Shaw hasn’t contacted her mother in almost six years. She called her every month when she was in the marines, visited her whenever she could in between training and missions, but when she joined the ISA she soon realized it was better to cut off all contact with her. She let her know, with one last phone call to tell her that it wasn’t safe for them to stay in touch, and that she would hear from the government if something happened that she needed to know about. She knew they would only let her know if she died in their service, and her mother knew it too, and she cried on the other end of the line, but she understood. She even thanked Shaw, though she wasn’t sure what for, and said she loved her, like a big sappy goodbye, and it made Shaw tell her that she would call her again if things ever got safe enough again. 

Cole hadn’t been so careful, or maybe he just cared too much. Shaw had gone to his parents’ house after he died. They must have told them their own version of what had happened before they had that article published in The Times. She didn’t even know why she had gone there. She’d wanted to tell them the truth at first, but she hadn’t even told her own mother as much. And since no article with her own picture had showed up so far, Shaw assumed they hadn’t been to her mother’s doorstep to break the news that her daughter was dead. 

Sometimes Shaw pictures her sitting by the phone in their old kitchen, waiting for it to ring and hear something about her long-lost child. It’s stupid, because her mother moved out of that house two years after Shaw graduated high school, but that’s where she remembers her most vividly. It’s even more stupid because she knows her mother isn’t like that. She doesn’t mope after she gets her heart broken. Shaw got to witness that firsthand after her father died. She had mourned for about a week, before she bought a house in Brooklyn and got her and her daughter’s new lives on track so fast Shaw barely even had time to process it. She was a fighter, strong like a lioness, she adjusted to whatever came to her, and she always had a plan. 

Shaw knows she isn’t sitting around waiting to hear from her again. But she knows she’s on her mom’s mind, like she’s been on hers ever since Root asked about her a couple of weeks ago. She’s been wondering whether her mom has moved on, whether she’s gotten married to the last guy Shaw remembers she was with. She tries, but she can’t remember his name. She wonders whether her mom has gotten a new job, in a new city, or whether she retired early to move to Florida or California, or anywhere sunny, like she always said she might. Maybe she doesn’t even live in the States anymore.  

Root asked Shaw how she came out to her mom while they were on the couch eating takeout, watching something pointless on tv. Somehow it had prompted Root to think about coming out stories, or more specifically Shaw's. Shaw had grinned as she dug up the memory from her mind. 

“She walked in on me making out with Lucia Torres from my track team.” She must have looked like a jerk while she said it. Root did an impressed gasp.  

“Oh my God, scandalous! How old were you?” 

“Like… fifteen I think.” 

“Oh you got to the party early, huh?” 

“When you know, you know,” Shaw said with a shrug. 

“Not in the south, you don’t,” Root argued, but she had one of those invincible smiles on her face. “How did your mom react?” 

“She left us alone to gather ourselves. Then she came back in after Lucia left. I thought she was gonna snap at me, even though she never did, but all she said was she’d known I liked girls since I was five. She asked if I liked boys too and I said I did and she was basically just cool with it.” 

Root shakes her head slowly. “That’s amazing. She was so progressive for the 90s.” 

“I don't know. We did live in New York. And I guess she had a lot of time to prepare for it.” 

“Well, she sounds amazing. Why don’t you talk about her?” 

There was no particular reason she didn’t talk about her, other than it never came up. But after that, Root had a lot of questions. How and why she left Iran, if she’s Muslim, how she met Shaw’s father, what she does for a living; everything Shaw hadn’t talked about to anyone since she was still speaking to the woman in question.  

Root was delighted to find out Shaw’s mom was a professor in biochemical science and beamed for an hour about how Shaw never could have mentioned that her mother was a genius before. “Where did you think I got it from?” just didn’t cut it for Root. 

Ever since that night, there has been a little voice in the back of Shaw’s mind, reminding her about that last promise she made to her mom. Everything is safe now, there’s no more harm in giving her a call. The machine has already found her in New Haven, just a two hour drive away. She’s been so free to forward Shaw her private and work phone numbers and email addresses, and even her home address. There’s really no excuse not to go for it.  

But something keeps holding her back, and she can’t really put her finger on what it is.  

Root catches her maul this over one night in the shower. Shaw hadn’t even noticed her come in the bathroom, but suddenly she’s next to her, her slender arms wrapping around Shaw as she claims her space under the stream. 

“What’s on your mind?” she says, with a kiss to Shaw’s temple. 

There was a time where nothing annoyed her more than that question itself. But by now she’s asked Root the same thing so many times that she doesn’t mind getting it back every now and then.  

“She probably thinks I’m dead,” she blurts out. 

Root takes a moment to respond, getting up to speed with Shaw’s thought process to figure out what she’s talking about. “But you’re not.” 

“Maybe it’s okay like this. She’s probably fine, living a good life. I don’t wanna force myself into that or whatever.” 

“Shaw.” Root’s tone is so genuinely annoyed that it makes Shaw look up at her. “Do you really think she’s  _fine_ , not knowing whether her only child is alive or not? You’re not gonna ruin her life clearing that mystery up for her.”  

Shaw thinks that over, letting the water wash over her. It’s nothing that she can’t understand. She knows it’s true. But the weird feeling is still there, so maybe that wasn’t what was holding her back. 

“What if I’m too late?” 

“What do you mean? She’s out there, we know that much,” Root says, letting go of Shaw’s waist to reach for her shampoo bottle.  

“But it’s been six years. And I never called. Not even once.” 

“You were busy. Never mind actually kidnapped by an evil AI. I’m sure she’d understand.” 

Shaw sighs and leans her forehead into Root’s shoulder. 

“You’ve thought I was dead multiple times in the past five years,” Root says while she washes her hair with Shaw stuck to her clavicle. “Did you give a shit about how long it took after you found out that I wasn’t?” 

“Yes,” Shaw mutters between water and Root’s skin. “I was fucking pissed at you.” 

“Okay, but that’s just because I’m skinny and reckless, right?” There’s mockery in her voice but Shaw lifts her head off her shoulder and shrugs. 

“You are,” she says. “You think you’re all that and then you run into danger like you’re invincible, when clearly you’re not.” She makes a point out of that by poking her in a random scar on her arm. “It’s annoying.” 

“And still you love me,” Root muses with a wide smile. She plants a kiss on Shaw’s cheek and Shaw rolls her eyes and suppresses a smirk. “So yeah, I don’t think your mother will mind finding out you’re not dead. I certainly didn’t.” 

She has her eyes closed while she’s letting the stream wash the shampoo out of her hair, and Shaw stares at her face. She remembers the look on Root’s face the night they found each other again, after all those months apart. The infinite victory smile on her mouth, the tears that sprang to her eyes whenever she looked at her. Shaw spent her whole life matching expressions to emotions, paying attention to people’s faces to make sure she got them right, to avoid misunderstandings, to try to mirror them in the future. But she had never seen joy as pure as it had shown on Root’s face that night. It had been overwhelming in that moment, too much for Shaw to process, but it's coming back to her now, and it fills her with a sense of pride. 

Root opens her eyes and catches Shaw staring. 

“I’ll call her tomorrow. First thing.” 

Root smiles. She sneaks a soapy hand behind Shaw’s neck and pulls her in for a kiss. 

 

* * *

 

A week later, Shaw is sitting in a café in midtown, staring at her latte but not really feeling like drinking it. She’s half an hour early, but she didn’t want to be late. She made her mom wait long enough for this. 

When she picked up the phone last week, it took her a while to get her speech back after Shaw said her name. She just repeated it for a while, as if she couldn’t believe who she was talking to. She probably didn’t. She asked Shaw everything she allowed herself to, how she was, where she was, why she was calling, everything but ‘where/how have you been’.  

When Shaw told her she was in New York, she brought up that she had a guest lecture at Columbia the next week, and they could meet up somewhere when they were both free. 

Now Shaw is waiting, and she’s nervous. She hadn’t heard her mom in six years, but she hasn’t seen her in even longer. She’ll recognize her, but she might look so different than she remembers her that it might shock her a little. She feels a little bad because there isn’t much she can say to explain why it's been so long. But she has something else to talk about, and she figures her mom will enjoy hearing that just as much.  

She keeps her eyes trained on the doors of the café. Eventually a woman with shoulder length greying black hair approaches, and Shaw has to look twice before she realizes it’s her. 

She’s dressed in a blue button down and leather boots that Root would wear. She looks so… fancy and modern. Shaw isn’t sure why that surprises her. She’s surrounded by snobby 20-somethings every day.  

She swallows and sits up a little straighter when her mother comes through the doors. She doubts if she should stand up, but ends up waiting until her mom has seen her. She raises her hand and does an awkward wave to pull her attention. 

Her mother puts her hand over her mouth and stands still for a second, in the middle of the café. Shaw gets up and takes a deep breath, and her mom walks towards her with her arms ready to pull her in for a hug.  

“Oh, Sameen,” her mother says when she squeezes her in. 

“Hi maman,” Shaw sighs. She hugs her back, letting her have this moment and reveling in it too. She smells like unfamiliar perfume, but unmistakably like her mother underneath. Shaw smiles into her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” her mother says then, and she lets go a little bit, pushing Shaw back a bit by the shoulders. “I know you hate hugs.” 

“It’s okay,” Shaw says. “I’m getting used to them.”  

Her mother’s eyes flash all over her face. “Oh, aziz, I forget how much you look like your father.” 

“I forgot how much I look like you,” Shaw replies. There are more lines on her mother’s face than she remembers, but her eyes are still the same as always, dark and clear, kind with a sharp edge.  

Her mother sighs and cups her face in both hands, smiling at her. “You look good, Sameen.” 

“You too, ma.” 

They kiss each other on the cheek and then become aware of the other people in the café, so they sit down at their table. 

“Have you been waiting a long time?” Shaw’s mom asks, nodding at the latte between them. 

“Nah, I was early.” It’s not really an answer, but it doesn’t matter. Her mother can’t stop looking at her, but she tries to hide her smile behind her hands now, leaning her elbows on the table. Shaw just smiles back at her, accepting the loving staring contest that is going on until the waitress comes back. She orders a new latte, since this one has gone cold, and her mom orders a cappuccino. 

“So,” Shaw starts when the waitress leaves. “Yale, huh?” 

Her mom shrugs with modesty. “An opportunity opened up.” 

“That’s great.”  

Her mom lets her hand fall on the table to touch hers, and she squeezes her fingers, like she still can’t believe her eyes and needs to hold on to her in some way. 

“Are you gonna be in New York for a while?” her mom asks. 

“I live here. Got a house, so.” She nods awkwardly, not wanting to give everything away at once. “So are you still with Robert?” The machine had reminded her of his name. She actually knew she was still with Robert, because they lived on the same address, but Shaw couldn’t help but notice they weren’t married. 

“Yep. Still going strong.” She smiles at that and a bit of relief riles through Shaw. 

“I don’t see a ring, though.” 

“Oh, he’s asked. Many times.” Her eyes widen to emphasize that. 

“But?” Shaw asks curiously. 

“I wanted to wait.” 

The waitress comes back with their coffee, and Shaw’s mom lets go of her hand to take it gratefully.  

“On what?” Shaw asks when she’s gone again. 

Her mom turns her cup around so the handle is on the right side before she answers, almost inaudibly and without looking up. “You.” 

“Maman,” Shaw says, sinking into herself a little. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“No, I don’t want to have a wedding without my moosh. That’s my choice.” 

Shaw scoffs softly. “I expect a party soon, then.” She finds her mom’s foot under the table and kicks her gently.  

Her mom smiles and raises her eyebrows suggestively. Then she turns more serious. “I take it it’s safe now?” She looks at her hopefully.  

“Yeah,” Shaw says. “It’s all good.” 

Her mom opens her mouth to say something, but then stops herself, thinking, and then tries again. “Is there… anything, at all, you can tell me. I know it’s all top secret stuff, you’re involved in but… I’d like to know how you’ve been holding up.” 

Shaw nods and looks down at the table. She takes a sip from her coffee while she thinks.  

“I can’t really tell you about what I did for the government. But I only worked for them for a couple of years. I was… let go, in a way. And I started working with some other people. Non-government related. But I can’t tell you much about that either. Not right now, at least. I was away for a while. In a not that fun type of way. But I’m back. And I’m doing good now.” She doesn’t look up from the table until the last part. She can tell her mom is worried about everything else she said. She considered leaving the ‘away’ thing out, but it’s a big part of how she currently lives, and she left it vague enough to fit with the rest of the story. She figures her mom would want to know at least that much. 

“You are?” she asks. 

“Yeah.” She pokes her mom’s fingers over the table, and she holds on to them again. “I’m living with somebody.” 

That seems to brighten her mom’s mood. Her face perks up, and she leans her shoulders over the table. “Oh?” 

Shaw can’t stop a stupid smile from creeping on her face. “We got two dogs, so it’s pretty serious.” 

“And who is this lucky person?” 

“Her name’s Root. She’s pretty great.” 

“Tell me about her.” She has the exact same look on her face she did after she walked in on Shaw and Lucia and she wanted to hear everything about her daughter’s new girlfriend, about her parents and if she had any food allergies she needed to know about. 

Shaw scoffs like the same awkward teen she was back then. “Uh, she’s smart. She’s tall. Like, stupid tall, compared to me. She’s really beautiful.” She mumbles the last part, starting to blush now. “She’s really good at computer stuff. You’d like her.” 

Her mom is beaming at her now. “Did you meet on the job?” 

“Sort of… We crossed paths at some point. Then we kind of kept running into each other.” She hates having to be this vague about the one thing she’s excited to tell her mother about, but then again she wouldn’t even want to know the real story of how they met. She only has to know about the present. “We work together now. We sort of run our own company.” 

“Oh my, a house, a company, dogs. That  _is_ serious.” She taps Shaw’s finger. “And yet no ring.” 

“Ohooh,” Shaw sputters, shaking her head in confusion. “No.” She scoffs. “That’s... not really our thing. I don’t think.” She shrugs. Honestly she’d never even given it a thought. They’re both living on fake identities now, and they switch them up every now and then. If they ever want to make it ‘official’ they could just have the machine make their identities married. But that doesn’t seem like their style. 

“Okay, I get it,” her mom says, smiling at Shaw’s reaction. “She makes you happy?” 

“Yeah,” she says, pursing her lips and avoiding her mom’s eyes.  

“So tell me about the dogs,” her mom says then, to lift off the pressure of talking about serious feelings. Shaw tells her all about the dogs, about Bear’s military training and the morning she got Rose as a Christmas present from Root. Then she proceeds to tell her mom about the house, a little ashamed of how big and expensive it is, but her mom just seems impressed. Shaw asks about Robert’s kids, he has a son and two daughters, all in their thirties too, and two of them have kids, which sort of makes Shaw’s mom a grandparent now and that thought weirds Shaw out a little bit. But she talks about them with pride, and it’s good to see her happy. 

They end the coffee date at the time Shaw told Root she’d be back at the office. She didn’t really have to leave, but they were running out of things to talk about for now. Shaw invites her mom over for dinner the next day, so she can introduce her to Root. Her mom seems delighted with the offer, and Shaw starts planning what to cook for her on her way to the office. 

 

* * *

 

“Shouldn’t I wear something else?” Root asks for the third time, ten minutes before Shaw’s mom is about to arrive. Shaw doesn’t even look over at her before answering. 

“No, calm down.”  

Root is wearing normal jeans with a normal shirt and there’s nothing wrong with it. She spent the last half hour obsessing over the table setting, laying the silverware and placemats just a little straighter every time she got near them. She even took the whole damn afternoon off and Shaw is pretty sure she vacuumed and mopped the whole house twice and dusted the back and top of every cupboard and shelf.  

It’s particularly unsettling because Root never cleans. Like ever. 

Shaw is cooking one of her mom’s recipes, because she can’t really go wrong there and she doesn’t allow Root near the stove in her current state of stress. It’s crazy to remember Root had been the one to convince her to call her mom, and now that she was coming over she was the one freaking out over making the right first impression. 

“Can you just sit down, please?” Shaw tells her. “You’re making me nervous too.” 

Root stops pacing and obediently sits at the counter. 

“I only told her good things about you. All you have to do is be your charming self and she’ll love you. Trust me.” 

Root sighs and nods, and taps her fingers on the countertop in an infuriatingly annoying rhythm, but Shaw will let her live for it this once. 

The doorbell rings just when Shaw sets the pot on the table.  

“I’ll get it,” she says. “Will you let the dogs in now?” 

Root banished them to the garden while she was cleaning and they hadn’t been allowed back in, for fear of them getting their hair on everything again. But Shaw’s mom loves dogs, and one of the only ways Root could make a real bad impression is to treat them like raccoons.  

Shaw’s mother comes bearing a bottle of wine and a huge succulent in a vintage pot. Shaw skips the unnecessary ‘you didn’t have to’ part and takes the items over from her so she can take off her jacket. 

“Do you own all the floors?” she asks, gesturing up the stairs while she hangs it up. 

“Yep,” Shaw says. She loves this house and all the space they have, but at the same time she feels a little uncomfortable with its size and the ridiculous wealth it radiates to other people. The most poor she’s ever been was in med school and the time Harold could no longer use his bank accounts, and even then it was nothing too dramatic, she’s always had a decent place to live at least. But this house is a lot, too much, and she knows what that looks like to others.  

“I won’t ask how you managed that,” her mom says, moving on by hugging her tightly.  

Shaw hears the doors slide open behind her and feels a dog nose against her butt a second later. Her mom lets go of her to give the dogs some love, cooing at them and telling them how beautiful they are. Shaw uses the time to step back towards Root and put her hand on her back. 

“Ah, you must be Root,” her mother says, leaving the dogs to their sniffing routine as she comes their way. “I’m Maryam.” 

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Root says, lifting her hand to shake Shaw’s mom’s, but it stays there when she’s captured in a hug. Root laughs with surprise. 

“She  _is_ tall,” Shaw’s mom hisses over her shoulder. Shaw grins and raises her eyebrows as if to say ‘I told you so’. 

She lets go of Root and holds her at arm’s length to look at her with a proud grin. Shaw would be embarrassed, but these two women are the most important people in her life, and seeing them together is kind of special to her.  

“Baa, maman,” Shaw says, laying her hand over her mom’s arm to cut between them and give Root some space. “I made gormeh and tahdig.” 

“Oh moosh, you didn’t have to go through all that trouble for me.”  

“Too late now.” 

Shaw leads her into the living room, and they take their seats the way Root had intended them to. 

For the first part of the dinner, Root and Shaw’s mom get acquainted with each other by asking each other the basic questions. They’ve decided to tell her they work in private security, which is technically not even a lie, and Maryam is very interested in the logistics of the software system Root has created to run their business. The only thing Shaw understands is that this system is basically a cover identity for the machine 2.0, and she leaves the rest of the nerd talk to her mom and Root, watching their expressions closely. 

Maryam seems impressed with Root, even after all the boasting Shaw did yesterday. She keeps glancing from Root to Shaw to shoot her a smile Shaw can only take as affirmation. 

A silence falls when Maryam asks Root where she went to college. Root had prepared a lie, but either she has forgotten it or she doesn’t want to lie anymore. But she ends up pulling through, telling her that she went to MIT, which earns her another impressed head nod.   

Shaw would say things are going well, but Root still seems a little jumpy. She flinches every time Shaw brushes against her with some part of her body, and she makes no eye contact with her until Maryam goes to the bathroom after the first round of fried rice. 

“You’re gonna have to touch me at some point tonight or my mom is gonna think I hired an actor to convince her I have my shit together,” Shaw says as she turns to her.  

“I don’t wanna make her uncomfortable,” Root hisses. 

“You won’t,” Shaw says. “She likes you.” She takes Root’s cheeks between her thumb and fingers and scrunches up her face as she pulls her closer. She kisses her on the lips and then lets go of her face, standing up from the table. She gets a bottle of wine and three glasses from the kitchen. 

“She drinks?” Root asks, looking confused. 

“Yeah. See how strictly religious she is?” 

Root gratefully takes a glass from Shaw and gulps down half of it in one go. She probably knows she’s being ridiculous. She just needs to let loose a little.  

When her mom comes back to the table, Shaw lifts the lid off the stew pot and fills up everybody’s plates. They start eating and compliment the chef on the food. It tastes as good as Shaw had hoped, but not as great as it did when her mom used to make it. 

“Ma,” she starts after a couple of bites. “Tell Root what you said to me after I came out to you.” 

“There’s a lock on the door for a reason?” her mom jokes. 

“I mean, you could have just knocked. But after that.” 

“I said I had known since she was five,” she says to Root. 

“How?” Root asks, with a smile. 

“There was this waitress on the base in Germany. Her father had brought Sameen along to the flower shop that Valentine’s day to buy me something nice. He must have explained to you what it means to buy somebody a rose.” She looks at Shaw too confirm. But she was too young to remember much of it, so she shrugs. “We ate at that diner twice a week. One day we passed the flower shop and Sameen begged me to let her buy a rose, because she needed to give it to the waitress.” 

Root turns her head to Shaw, her jaw dropped and the most adoring look in her eyes. “Oh my God, you were such a romantic when you were five!” 

“At first I wasn’t sure whether her father had explained the gesture correctly. But then I saw the look on her face when she handed the rose over to that girl. She was Sameen’s first love.” 

Shaw rolls her eyes into the back of her head. “I wouldn’t go that far.” 

“That’s so cute,” Root beams. Shaw wanted her to loosen up a little, but now she’s just having the time of her life at her expense. 

“When she came out to me, and she told me she liked boys too,” her mom goes on, and this is the thing Shaw was after. The thing Root needed to hear from her. “I told her her heart was so big it only made sense she had twice as many people to love.” 

Root falls silent over that, forgetting about her food for a moment. “You really said that?” 

Her mom looks over at Shaw now, nonverbally asking her to confirm. “Maybe not in those exact words,” she says. 

“Well, that’s amazing.” Shaw can see her bite back a comment. She knows she’s thinking about her own mother, but she doesn’t want to ruin the good mood around the table. 

“Do you have any more adorable stories about Sameen’s childhood that she wouldn’t tell me herself in a million years?” Root asks.  

And Shaw’s mom delivers.  

Shaw groans and hides her face behind her palms while her mother tells Root all about what a perfect child she was. She doesn’t exactly remember it the same way. She used to get in trouble all the time, for punching other kids, getting caught in places she wasn’t supposed to be, saying the wrong things in front of adults, that sort of thing, but it seems like her mother didn’t quite experience it that way. Or maybe she just sees it differently twenty-five years later.  

Root clearly feels a bit more relaxed with some wine in her blood and a bunch of anecdotes of Shaw as a kid in her mind. She touches Shaw's arm above the table, brushes her full body against Shaw's when they're clearing up the table, and all it earns her is a kiss on the cheek from Shaw and a proud smile from her mom. 

They take their glasses to the couch when the kitchen is clear. Shaw is happy that her mom and Root are both talkers, so that she doesn't have to say too much herself. She's happy enough just listening to them, even if they're talking about her half the time.

They offer her mom the guest room for the night, but since the university has put her in a four star hotel in midtown, she kindly declines, but keeps the offer for next time. She gives both Root and Shaw a tight hug, each dog a firm pet on the head, and then she leaves, leaving a warm silence behind.

"Was that so bad?" Shaw asks when she has locked the door.

"I love your mom," Root sighs. She steps in and grabs Shaw's waist, pulling her in.

"My mom loves you too."

Root bites her lip to hold back part of her smile, and leans her forehead against Shaw's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while cuz I've been focusing on my original stuff but I've been having a shoot break down for two weeks on end and I just needed to write something for them again
> 
> Thanks again Em
> 
> Title is of course a Taylor Swift song
> 
> Pls leave comments it feeds my attention hungry soul


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